


Congruent Angles

by romanticalgirl



Series: Geometric Progression [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Mental Health Issues, Past Rape/Non-con, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 17:00:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3617385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A continuation of "Parallel Lines"</p><p>Mickey and Ian have a good thing going. And then life happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains situations that may be perceived as abusive. It also deals with mental illness and the side effects of it on people who suffer from it and the people involved with them.

They’ve fallen into a pattern which seems to work. Mickey stays home with his legal family on the nights Ian has dates and he stays with Ian on the nights he doesn’t. It’s not ideal by any stretch of Mickey’s imagination, but it’s doable. He watches Yevgeny two of the four nights he’s home and Svetlana fucks off somewhere. He doesn’t ask and she doesn’t tell. That seems to work too.

He’s advanced beyond chicken nuggets since he makes dinner most nights, but he flipped Ian off when he brought home a “kiss the cook” apron, and said he wouldn’t let him have any of the meatloaf he’d brought from home. Off course, Ian had laughed when Mickey said it, not realizing his mistake until Ian offered to give him all the meatloaf he wanted.

The meatloaf got cold. Fortunately the hot plate worked to heat it up. And he did let Ian have some. Told him it was only fair to return the favor.

It’s domestic as shit, and when he’s not with Ian, it bothers Mickey how much he likes it. Mandy teases him about playing house, especially when he takes Yevgeny with him when he goes to see Ian. But watching Ian with him is an illicit pleasure. Ian can play with him for hours, talking and tickling and swearing that he’s helping to develop Yevgeny’s hand-eye coordination. They lay on the bed together and nap sometimes, the baby between them, waking up to warm kisses and tiny fists of fury beating on them when Yevgeny gets hungry.

It’s fucking idyllic, which is why Mickey should expect the other shoe to drop. Nothing goes right in his life for long. 

Mandy comes over after bitching about never seeing Ian’s place, so he gives her the tour, and then she straps Yevgeny into some stupid baby harness thing so they can walk to the store. The kid is kicking like he’s setting the pace, and Mandy growls at him, which makes him grin. It’s kind of cute, but Mickey would rather die than admit it. Mandy’s talking about something while they’re waiting at a light when Mickey sees him.

Ian. He’d know Ian anywhere. Even in the arms of someone else.

Mandy starts across the street, not realize until she’s halfway that Mickey’s not beside her. She turns around and, when he doesn’t move, she heads back toward him, flipping off the cars who honk. “What the fuck?”

Mickey shakes his head. “I need to go home.”

“We just left.”

“No. Home. Home-home.” He turns on his heel and walks down the street toward the El station. Mandy hurries after him, and he doesn’t respond to her questions. Mickey’s distracted enough that he buys a ticket rather than trying to jump the turnstile. 

Mandy grabs his arm. “Mickey. What the fuck is going on?”

He jerks away from her and shakes his head. “You coming or not?”

Mandy follow him, petting Yevgeny’s head and telling him his father is a psycho. She waits for Mickey’s comeback, but it never happens. He’s staring out the window, holding onto the strap like it’s a lifeline.

“Mick?” She reaches out and brushes her fingers against his bicep and he shivers like he’s freezing. “Mick? You’re worrying me.”

“I’m fine. Just got shit to do.”

“It’s your day at Ian’s. You’re supposed to do shit there.”

“Well, I’ve got other shit. Shit that takes presidents.”

“Precedence.”

“What the fuck ever.” He adjusts his grip, his knuckles white. His chest feels like it’s going to explode, like he can’t contain everything inside him. It’s too big. Too much. “Can you take the kid home? It’s Svetlana’s night anyway. Tell her I’ll be home tomorrow morning.”

“Mickey! Come on. What’s going on?” She frowns at him. “Should I call Ian?”

“No, you shouldn’t fucking call Ian. This has nothing to do with Ian. It’s just something I have to take care of, so maybe get the fuck off my back, okay?”

“Jesus. Fuck you.” She turns away. “Nice to know you’re still the same asshole you always were.”

“You expected me to change?”

“Yeah.” She turns around again and glares at him. “Love changes people. Usually for the better. Obviously that’s not the case here.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I ain’t in love.”

“Oh, bullshit. You’re so head over heels it’s not even funny. Like, honestly? You have fucking hearts in your eyes when you look at him. It’s like a fucking Disney movie.”

Mickey takes a step forward, getting in Mandy’s face. “Shut. The fuck. Up.”

“He’s no better.”

“Mandy!” Mickey whirls around and punches the wall between the door and the window. “Shut up, okay? Just...just shut up.”

“Ma’am?” Mickey looks over his shoulder at the fucking security guard approaching Mandy. Great. Just fucking great.

“I’m fine,” Mandy holds her hand up to keep him at a distance. “Sibling rivalry, you know? No problem. I could take him. Hell, the baby could take him. It’s fine.”

“Are you sure? I can have him escorted off the train.”

“I promise. It’s fine. If it wasn’t, he would have punched me, not the train. So it’s all good.” She smiles and it’s supposed to be reassuring, but Mickey knows it’s not. It’s dangerous. It’s a warning. 

The security guy looks from Mandy to Mickey and nods. “You let me know if you change your mind.”

“I will. Thanks.” She keeps smiling until he walks away and then she kicks Mickey hard in the shin. “What the fuck, fucker?” She hisses.

“Drop it. Drop...just drop it.” 

The train comes to a stop and Mickey moves to the door. Mandy shakes her head. “This isn’t our stop.”

Mickey shrugs as he starts out. “It’s mine.”

**

He’s not 100% sure where he is. Somewhere in a shittier part of a shitty part of town and some bar that looks like something out of a biker movie. Mickey’s spent most of the grocery money on whiskey and he’s nowhere near done drinking. He turned off his phone before he even got off the train platform, so he’s drinking in the silence of strangers. 

He rubs his forehead and his eyes close. It’s the last thing he wants, because the image of some other man holding Ian, kissing Ian, is burned onto the inside of Mickey’s eyelids, seared into his brain. The booze hasn’t even made it blurry around the edges. It’s still in crystalline detail, sharp and cutting.

He opens his eyes and downs the last of the shots lined up in front of him. The bar is loud and everyone is drunk and there’s a hum of tension in the air. Mickey stands up in his chair. “Excuse me. Excuse me.”

Everyone looks at him and is quiet. No one knows who he is, but he has their attention, only the music in the background churning out fuzzy sounding classic rock. 

“I am a faggot. I like dick. I like taking dick, and I’m determined that one of you will take me home and give me the pounding of my life.” He smiles and swallows against whatever it is that feels like glass in his throat. He points at the roughest, angriest, most offended looking jerk in the bar. “You, maybe. You look like you secretly love eating ass.”

He hasn’t gotten the entire sentence out before someone grabs him around the middle and takes him to the ground. He doesn’t even fight back. He just lets it all wash over him until everything goes black.

**

“Jesus Christ.” 

Mickey has been staring at the fluorescent lights for a long time. They’re all he sees when he closes his eyes now. He just can’t keep them closed for long or the lights dim and everything else rushes in to take their place. He’s timing how long he can keep from blinking, listening to the clock on the wall tick off seconds. He thinks he’s made a minute, but he’s got some sort of painkiller dripping into his arm, so it’s hard to tell for sure.

“What the fuck happened?” Ian shows up in Mickey’s vision, looking down at him. “I got home and you weren’t there, and then I got a call from the cops saying you were here. What the fuck, Mickey?”

“Got in a fight.”

“Yeah. I heard. Apparently the bartender firing a shotgun blast into the ceiling broke it up before they killed you.” Ian reaches out and Mickey turns his head away. He can see bars of light against the dark window. “Mick?”

“Go away, Ian.”

“No.”

“Right. Right. It’s my night. No one better to do.” He wonders if he’ll still see the lights if he presses the heels of his hands against his eyelids. “They’re letting me out of here in a couple hours. They have to reset my nose and put my arm in a sling. So you should go.”

“Mickey, I...” 

Mickey’s good arm darts out and grabs Ian’s wrist before he can touch him. “Go away, Ian. Please.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Ian takes a step back and Mickey can’t see him anymore. Fitting. “I’ll come by to see you tomorrow.”

“Don’t. My dad’ll be home. For a while. So I won’t be coming by. Can’t exactly tell him we’re shacking up half the time, right?” He tries for levity, but he’s pretty sure it falls flat.

“I don’t understand. We were fine this morning. More than fine.” Mickey had woken Ian up with a blowjob to get him ready and then slid down on Ian’s cock and ridden him. Definitely more than fine. Mickey had lain in a state of bliss after Ian had gone to work at the coffee shop. Well, he’d gone to work. “Will you talk to me?”

“Pretty sure visiting hours are over, Gallagher.” He keeps staring at the ceiling. Maybe he’ll burn out his retinas and never have to see anything again. “You’d better go.”

**

Things go from bad to worse after that. His dad actually _is_ home when he gets there, and Mandy takes one look at him and stalks out of the room. She’s probably calling Ian. 

“Where the fuck you been?”

“Hospital.” Mickey tugs a cigarette from the pack in his pocket. His right arm is in a sling and useless, so he has to dig his cigarette lighter out of his right hand pocket with his left hand to manage it. He lights the smoke and takes a deep drag. “Bar fight.”

“At the Alibi? Nobody there but a bunch of pussies.”

“Different bar. Looking to expand the business. Apparently I was in someone else’s territory.” It’s easy to lie to his dad. He doesn’t know why he’s bothering though. If he wanted a swift end to all of this, he could just tell him the truth and end up a smear on a wall somewhere. He never thought he’d miss the days of jerking off thinking about faceless guys and wondering what it’d be like to get fucked, never thought he’d miss the numb mindlessness of being the local badass. “When did you get home?”

“Couple nights ago. Had to check in for parole, so hauled ass back to town. Where you been?”

“Working.”

“You ain’t been home with your wife and kid.”

“I’m home now.” Mickey heads to his bedroom and shuts the door behind him. Svetlana is laying on the bed, her head at the feet, blowing smoke toward the window and away from Yevgeny who is on some sort of play mat on the floor. “Hey.”

“Didn’t expect you home.”

“Yeah, well, I am. Gonna be for a while. You cool with that?”

“No choice.”

“True enough.” He takes the sling off his arm so he can change his shirt. He smells sour. “I’m going to shower.”

“Did boyfriend beat you up?”

“No.” Mickey digs through his drawers past Svetlana’s shit to get to his own. “And he’s not something we need to be talking about right now. Or ever.”

“Of course not. Is secret.” She puts a finger against her lips and smiles. Mickey doesn’t trust her, but he really doesn’t have any choice.

“Yeah. Something like that.” He pulls out a pair of boxers. “You know, the floor is a disgusting place for a kid.”

“Everything in this house disgusting.”

“You know where the door is.”

“Don’t worry, lover boy. Daddy will not know. Not from me. In Russia we also know about killing the messenger.”

Mickey nods curtly and squats down in front of the kid. “Sorry about the short day, bubba.” He feels kind of ridiculous, and annoyed at himself because it’s something that Ian would do. “Make it up to you tomorrow.”

Svetlana’s smirking when he stands up, but there’s something in her eyes that looks like actual surprise. Like maybe isn’t as much of a fuck-up at being a dad as everyone thinks he is. Everyone except Ian. Fuck. 

Mickey heads to the bathroom, turning the water on as hot as it will go. He aches in places he didn’t know he could ache. He wouldn’t let the doctors bandage his ribs or give him any stitches, so he’s got crusted blood on his eyebrow and lip and the bruises bloom across his body. He can’t seem much of himself in the mirror, but he doesn’t really want to. He can _feel_ how bad it looks.

The water pressure is shit, but he’s not sure he could handle much more. As it is it’s too much, but he keeps it turned as high as it will go. He watches blood wash off and down the drain, standing there and staring at the swirling water until it starts to go cold. He winces as he dries off, trying too often to use his right arm and regretting it.

When he comes out of the bathroom, his dad’s on the couch watching something with a laugh track on TV and finding it too fucking amusing. Svetlana’s sitting at the table feeding Yevgeny and Mandy’s nowhere to be seen. Apparently Terry’s presence is working to make Kenyatta scarce. Apparently it only took one large Nazi tattoo. It being on Terry might have been a factor.

“Where’s Mandy?”

Svetlana shrugs. “Out.”

“You makin’ me dinner?”

“You can have breast milk or pureed peas. Your choice.”

“Never mind. I’ll make my own.”

“Good plan.” Her eyes rake over him as he goes to the kitchen and he hates the way it makes him feel. Like she knows more than he does, like she’s judging him. She isn’t even near high ground, so he’s not sure why. Maybe because she seems to know how he feels about Ian and probably isn’t afraid to use it against him. “Your phone rang while you were in shower. I answer. I tell your friend you are home okay.”

“That wasn’t necessary.”

“There was begging. It pleased me.” She feeds Yevgeny another bite and the kid burbles so that it sprays across the tray of the high chair. She scrapes his chin and lips with the spoon and feeds it to him again. “You have seventy messages.”

“You should stay out of my phone.”

“I didn’t listen to them.” She finishes scraping the bottle and feeding the kid and gets him out of the high chair, handing him to Mickey. “He needs change. Your turn.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Who do you think is more used to seeing dick? You or me?”

“Okay, he’s a baby. Don’t talk about that shit around him. Christ.” He steals a look to see if Terry’s paying attention at all before he leans in closer to her and whispers, “Quality over quantity.”

She drops her voice as well. “What is boyfriend’s reason then?”

He keeps whispering. “Bitch.”

“Faggot.”

Mickey actually smiles. He could get used to this. Not with his father in the picture, but otherwise. Not that it matters anymore now that Ian’s...not in the picture either. “C’mon, little man. Let’s get you changed. Just because you’re in this house doesn’t mean you have to smell like shit.”

**

Mickey’s sleeping. Dreaming. He has to be dreaming, because Ian’s there somewhere. He can hear his voice, low and rumbling like a bass line in time to Mickey’s heart. He’s also dreaming because where the fuck else would this sappy shit be coming from? He opens one eye and groans. “Go the fuck away, Mandy.”

“He’s awake!”

Mickey turns his head and sees Ian walk into the open doorway. “Fuck you both.”

Mandy blows him a kiss and gets up, kissing Ian’s cheek as she leaves, shutting the door behind her. Ian stands beside it, not moving any closer. 

“I thought I was pretty clear.”

“You were. I mean, what you said. I’m not clear on the why. Because we were good. We are good. And all of a sudden we aren’t.”

“My dad’s in town. You need to not be here.”

“I don’t care about your dad.”

“Well, I fucking do!” Mickey stands up and glares at Ian. “I don’t know about you, Gallagher, but I don’t particularly want to die over a piece of ass. I don’t give a fuck whose ass it is. So get the fuck out.”

“Tell me what happened.” Ian shrugs like it’s that simple. “Tell me what happened, and I’ll go.”

Mickey takes a deep breath and tilts his head from one side to the other, cracking his neck. “You weren’t at the coffee shop.”

“What?”

“You said you were going to work at the coffee shop. You lied.” Mickey shrugs. “He’s totally your type. Old. Rich. You know what I don’t understand, Ian?”

Ian’s face is carefully blank. It’s something that growing up on the south side teaches you. “What’s that?”

“Why me? I’m not old. Not rich. Not anything you like. So why even bother?” Mickey tries to keep his voice even. “The challenge? For fun? You win a bet or something?”

“No.”

“You know, I knew I was stupid. I never thought I was an idiot. Thanks for proving me wrong.” Mickey nods to the door. “You know your way out.”

“You’re not even going to listen?”

“Are you fucking him?”

“That’s not the point.” Ian holds up a hand to stop Mickey from saying anything. “They pay. Old. Rich. They pay. You’re. I’m with you because I want to be.”

“Did you fuck him that day, Ian? Not that it looked like you were fucking. You were full-on being a couple. Public displays of affection all that shit. And _that’s_ what you want. We had a deal and you didn’t hold up your end of the bargain because you want something I can’t give you. Maybe you didn’t know it when we started. Maybe you thought it didn’t matter. But apparently it does.”

“That’s not true.”

“Did he have a place for you to shower? Or were you going to come home to me smelling like him? Tasting like him?” Mickey closes his eyes for a moment to hold back the burning then blinks rapidly. “It was only supposed to be me. Four days a week. Just us. You could have just told me I was holding you back from turning a profit. Told me you needed another day. I would have hated it, but I wouldn’t have had to see it.”

“Mickey...”

“I’m sorry.”

“What? Why are you sorry? What...”

Mickey looks up at him and shrugs. His smile is sad, rueful. “That I can’t be what you need. Enough. So let’s cut our losses, okay? Mandy can bring the kid over to see you if you want. I know you like having him around.”

“I like having _you_ around.”

“Yeah, well. I can’t do it anymore. We had a good run. We tried.” He looks down at his feet and exhales shakily. “That’s all we promised.”

“Bullshit. You promised you loved me.”

“I do.” The words burn his throat as much as the threatening tears burn his eyes. “Which is why we end this now, so it doesn’t change into something else.” He walks past Ian and opens the bedroom door. Mandy’s standing just down the hall, and Mickey knows she was listening. He’s glad in a way. Now he won’t have to repeat the whole story. “Don’t come back, okay? Do that one last thing for me?”

Ian doesn’t look at him as he brushes past, heading straight for the door. Mickey winces as it slams. He walks over to the edge of the bed and sinks down on the floor, arms on his knees and back against the mattress. Mandy stands in the doorway, her brow furrowed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, well. That was kind of the point.” He shakes his head. “It’s cool. At least it’s over. Maybe now I’ll sleep at night, huh?”

She comes over and sits on the floor next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. She reaches out and takes his hand, threading her fingers with his. “Love sucks.”

“Yeah. Except how it doesn’t.”

She nods and then buries her head against his shoulder. He can feel the heat of her tears soaking through his shirt and he rests his head against hers, trying his best not to cry. Her voice is thick when she nods again. “Yeah.”

**

Mickey wouldn’t call it a job. Mostly he sits around on his ass and flips through the magazines the guys on the day shift leave lying around. He walks the perimeter fence three times in nine hours and no one bothers him. He doesn’t know why they need security around a bunch of abandoned warehouses, but he’s not going to bitch about someone paying him to do nothing.

It also gives him too much time to think. He thinks about his life before and after Ian. He tries not to think of during. During still hurts too much. He thinks about the fact that he’s alone in a house full of people again. Mandy walks on eggshells around him, carefully not telling him when she’s taking Yevgeny to see Ian. He always knows when he wakes up that they’re gone and where they’ve gone. 

His dad’s back in jail for violating his probation, not that anyone’s surprised. Svetlana’s pregnant with some rich couple’s baby and Mickey thinks that she likes being pregnant. He certainly doesn’t mind it so long as he doesn’t have to be involved. Kenyatta’s come back from whatever bolthole he was hiding it, but at least he’s not actively hurting Mandy anymore. Probably helps that the only Gallagher she seems interested in these days is the one who doesn’t want to have sex with her.

He makes his last circuit at 5:30, ending at the guardhouse right before six. There’s a guy standing right outside and Mickey raises an eyebrow. “Help you?”

“I’m looking for Lloyd?”

“He’s probably not here yet. Usually doesn’t roll in until a little after six. Advantages of being the big boss. You the new guy?”

“Yeah. Jeff.” He holds out his hand and Mickey shakes it. Respectability is strange. “You must be the night guy. Mikey?”

“Mickey.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“You want some coffee? Might as well come in and wait.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“I’m the one with the gun.” Mickey smiles and opens the gate. “And I’ve never been afraid to use it.” 

Mickey pours them each a cup of coffee, shoving the tabloids off to the side. He doesn’t ever punch out until Lloyd gets there, even though it puts him into overtime. Asshole wants to be late, he can pay Mickey for the privilege. Jeff starts talking and Mickey half pays attention. He’s tired and he’s got Yevgeny duty this afternoon, so all he wants to do is sleep. Instead Jeff says something that jerks him awake.

“What?”

“I’ve seen you before. At a club. Just north of the bad side of town.” He winks. At least Mickey thinks he winks. Mickey’s hand twitches near his holster. “Don’t worry. If I saw you there, that means I was there too. Mutually assured destruction.”

“I don’t go there anymore. Not for a long time.”

“Pity.” Jeff grins, almost hiding it behind the rim of his coffee cup. The door opens and Lloyd comes in, yawning and scratching his ass. 

“Milkovich, get the fuck out of here. It’s after six. Who the fuck is this?”

“New hire,” Jeff says as he stands up and offers his hand. “Just need someone to show me the ropes.”

** 

The camera clicks on and Mickey looks at the feed. No alarms have gone off, so it’s probably just some animal getting too curious and about to end up with a mouthful of voltage. There’s a creak on the step outside, and Mickey’s up with his gun drawn when the door opens.

“Whoa. Whoa. I come in peace.” Jeff is standing there with his ring of keys in his hand, both his hands in the air. 

“You’re about two hours too early.”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“They make shit for that.” Mickey puts the safety back on the gun, but he doesn’t holster it. “What are you doing here?”

Jeff shuts the door and locks it. “Just wanted to talk.”

“I’m working.”

“I know.” He takes a step forward and wraps his hand around Mickey’s wrist, guiding the gun back to the holster. “I suppose you’re a model employee.”

Mickey swallows hard. “I need the job.”

“I think you need something else.” Jeff sinks to his knees and Mickey’s eyes widen. Jeff works Mickey’s pants open, the heavy gun helping to pull them low on his hips. Warm hands grasp Mickey’s dick and then Jeff’s mouth is on him, sucking him down. 

“Oh...oh Christ.” Mickey’s head falls back and hits the wall. He flinches but then Jeff takes him deeper and he forgets all about the sharp sting of pain. Mickey grabs the windowsill with one hand and drops the other one to Jeff’s head, fisting it in his hair. He’s torn between thrusting forward or shoving Jeff away, but then Jeff’s hands slide beneath Mickey’s pants and around to his ass, fingers curving into the crease. He moans roughly. “Oh fuck.”

Jeff takes that as encouragement, sucking Mickey deeper, his hands spreading Mickey’s ass. Mickey’s hips rock forward and Jeff takes one hand off of Mickey, bringing it and sucking his fingers along with Mickey’s dick and then moving his hand between Mickey’s legs, spit-slick finger pushing inside.

Mickey’s whole body shudders and he closes his eyes tight. Everything inside him is at war right now and he pushes Jeff away roughly just as he comes. Jeff takes Mickey’s load full in the face and Mickey deliberately pounds his head against the wall this time. “Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Sorry.”

Jeff’s smiling and he looks ridiculous. “No problem.”

“Yeah. No. It is. Jesus.” Mickey grabs some napkins from beside the coffee pot and hands them to Jeff, doing up his pants while Jeff cleans up. Mickey rubs his face with both hands and presses his fingers against his eyelids. “I’m...not...I can’t...There’s someone.”

“No there isn’t.” Jeff stands up and Mickey’s eyes dart down to his crotch. He can see the outline of Jeff’s dick through his pants and Mickey’s ass clenches in response. “People with someone else don’t let you get that far.”

“You didn’t seem like you’d take no for an answer.”

“You didn’t say no.” He moves in again and Mickey takes a step back. His body’s shaking with reaction and, as much as he hates to admit it, need. “You could say it now.”

Mickey shakes his head. “No.”

“No?”

Mickey’s pretty sure he’s in hell as he turns around, bracing himself against the wall. “Yes.”

**

Mickey wakes up earlier than usual to the noise coming from the living room. He shoves the sheets off of him and tugs on his boxers. He shoves the door open hard enough that it swings back and slams shut. “What the fuck?”

Ian stops mid-motion, holding a giggling Yevgeny up in the air. Mandy looks like she’s been caught red-handed. Mickey lurches to a stop and swallows hard. Mandy steps forward. “Sorry, Mickey. We were just at the park and it’s a great day and we were having fun and I had to come by and get some more diapers, and we were too loud. I’m sorry.”

Mickey nods, incapable of looking away from Ian. “It’s cool. Make sure he keeps his jacket on. He likes to take it off. Gets too cold.”

Ian nods back, finally lowering Yevgeny as he starts to squirm, reaching out for Mickey. “Papa!”

Mickey grins and he can feel the flush heating his face. He never thought he’d like it, but he smiles every time he hears the kid say it. “Hey, bubba.” He reaches out and Ian hands him over. Mickey jerks when Ian’s hand brushes his arm and Ian looks like he’s been stung. “You having fun with Aunt Mandy and Ian?” Mickey hopes Ian’s name doesn’t sound as strangled as it seems to. “They put you on the swings?”

“Yeah.” It’s the first thing Ian’s said. “He likes the swings.”

“I know.” Mickey nuzzles Yevgeny’s head and kisses his temple. “So what are you guys up to now?”

“We were going to go the Gallagher’s and have lunch. Lip stole a bunch of hamburgers and buns from the cafeteria, so we’re having a bar-b-que.” Mandy’s talking too fast, nervous. “We should go. They’re waiting for us.”

“Mickey?” Jeff comes out of the bedroom, scratching his head. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Mickey hands Yevgeny over to Mandy. “You guys have a good time.” He can’t look at Ian. Can’t see if seeing Jeff bothers him. Doesn’t want to know if it doesn’t. “I’m off today, so I’ll be home if you want to have some kid-free time.”

“You look like you’re enjoying that.”

He hadn’t forgotten how whip-sharp Ian’s voice could be, how it feels like it flays his skin. Mickey still can’t look at him. Jeff looks from Mickey to Ian and laughs, shocking them both into looking at him. “Oh. You’re the someone else.”

“Pardon me?” 

Jeff doesn’t have the same reaction to Ian’s voice. “You’re his ‘I can’t do this, there’s someone else’ that lasted about ten seconds. I’m Jeff. Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah,” Ian glances at Jeff’s extended hand and then up at his face. “Can’t say the same.” He grabs the diaper bag and turns on his heel with military precision. Mandy mouths a quick sorry as she follows him out quickly.

Mickey lets out a slow breath and wonders how long it would take to get to the gun cabinet and put a bullet through his head. 

“He’s hot as hell, I’ll give you that.” Jeff’s leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his bare chest. “You think we’re invited to the bar-b-que?”

“No. I think we are definitely not fucking invited to the bar-b-que.” Mickey starts for the bedroom. “C’mon. Let’s just go back to sleep.”

“Back to bed. There’s a difference.” Jeff grabs Mickey’s arm and pulls him close. “Don’t call me by his name.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to get you two confused.” He doesn’t add the ‘ever’, but it hangs in the air around them. 

Jeff smiles and nods toward the bedroom door. “After you.”

**

Mickey leaves the house less than an hour later either because he’s a glutton for punishment or...well, there really isn’t any other reason. Walking to the Gallagher house is instinct, and he hears them long before he can see them. The smell of hamburgers in the air makes his stomach growl and he can hear someone splashing around in the pool. He stops at the edge of the lot next to the house and looks at them all. Yev is in a bouncy saucer thing that Mickey’s pretty sure used to be Liam’s. Fiona’s directing Carl and Debbie as they set up a couple of card tables with chips and sauces and paper plates. Lip and Kevin come down the stairs carrying beers and sodas. He doesn’t see Ian until there’s a splash of water and Ian levers himself out of the pool, water running down his bare chest. 

Definitely a glutton for punishment.

“Papa! Papa! Papa!”

Everyone turns to look at Yev’s voice and Mickey curses under his breath. He manages a wave and walks toward the pool. “Hey. Just thought I’d come take the kid off your hands.”

“Don’t be silly,” Fiona says. “He’s having fun. He’s a great kid. Stay. Have a burger.”

Veronica widens her eyes at Fiona, her eyebrows eloquent. Mickey shakes his head. “Nah. You guys are having family time.”

“You’re family.” This time Veronica actually kicks Fiona in the leg. “Ow! What?”

Veronica looks at Mickey then jerks her head in Ian’s direction. Everyone is watching in mute fascination and Mickey wants to laugh, but he’s pretty sure it’d come out high-pitched and a little insane. “It’s cool. I’m gonna go. Sorry to bother you.”

“No.” Ian’s voice is cool, but Mickey feels it like a match in his blood. “Stay.” He’s sitting on the edge of the pool and his gaze is leveled at Mickey. “Unless you have to get home to your boyfriend.”

Mickey’s pretty sure the collective gasp of air is all in his imagination. He hopes like hell it is. “No. He had some things to do.” 

Ian slides back in the pool and disappears under the water. Mickey wonders if there’s enough room in it for him to drown himself. He’s pretty sure Ian wouldn’t stop him. Hell, he’d probably help. Mickey ignores the looks the Gallaghers are giving him and goes over to sit down by Yevgeny. He reaches out and spins a wheel, listening to the beans inside rattle. Yev giggles happily and slaps at it, trying to recreate the sound.

He could have had this. He _wanted_ this. He pushes a button on the saucer and a horn honks. Yev shrieks and then laughs, kicking his feet where they’re hanging an inch above the ground. Fuck, he’s growing up fast.

A shadow falls over Mickey and water drops on his knee. He looks up at Ian and then pushes the horn again. “I wasn’t trying to crash your party.”

“Come for a swim.”

“Nah. I’ll stay with him.”

“Everyone else is eating. Debbie’s dying to feed him some baked beans. Wheel him over there and come for a swim.”

Mickey knows he should say no. He knows that with every fiber of his being, but he still nods. He carries the entire saucer over to where the group is eating and Debbie gladly takes him off Mickey’s hands. He walks back over to the pool and stands beside it. “I didn’t bring anything to wear.”

“You don’t need anything.”

“Really don’t feel like waving the family jewels in front of the rest of your family. And the neighbors. And my sister.”

Ian climbs up the ladder and slips into the water, looking at Mickey over the edge. “Your loss.” 

“Fuck.” Mickey strips off his shirt and his jeans, kicking out of his shoes and tugging off his socks. He feels ridiculous in his plaid boxers, but it doesn’t take long before he’s in the water and out of sight. He slips beneath the surface then comes up for air. He doesn’t manage much since Ian is right in front of him. 

“So that’s who you’re fucking now?”

Mickey shrugs. “He’s fucking me.”

“In your house. In your bed.” Ian’s voice is tight and angry. “Not so worried about daddy now?”

“He’s back in jail. Besides, it’s not really any of your business. What I do. Who I do. That ended months ago.” He doesn’t feel nearly as brave as his words sound. He feels like he’s going to be sick. “Who are you fucking these days? Or how many?”

Ian’s hand wraps around Mickey’s throat and he pushes him against the edge of the pool. Mickey swallows, feeling the pressure on his Adam’s apple. Ian looks like he’s about to say something, but then his grip changes and his fingers slide to the back of Mickey’s neck, his thumb stroking along Mickey’s jawline. Mickey looks up at Ian and licks his lips, swallowing harder this time. Ian’s other hand comes up and his thumb swipes across Mickey’s bottom lip. Mickey’s mouth opens and his breath sounds loud in his ears. 

Ian just keeps looking at Mickey’s mouth as he swipes his thumb back and forth over Mickey’s lip. It’s getting harder to breathe and Mickey wonders if he actually is drowning. 

And then Ian kisses him. And he knows he is.

Mickey clings to Ian desperately, returning the kiss in equal measure. It’s not sweet or romantic. It’s hard and brutal, clashing teeth and bleeding lips. He wraps one leg around the back of Ian’s, trying to get closer. They go under, but they don’t break apart until Mickey’s lungs are burning. He breaks the surface just after Ian, managing a breath before they’re kissing again.

Ian’s hand slide under the waistband of Mickey’s shorts, curving around his ass and squeezing. Mickey groans in Ian’s mouth as he straddles Ian’s thigh, rocking against it. Ian breaks the kiss and bites Mickey’s jaw then his earlobe. “Want to fuck you. Right here. Right now. Don’t care if they’re listening or watching. Need to be inside you.”

“Ian,” Mickey whimpers quietly, not sure if he’s saying yes or no. Ian scrapes his teeth across the cord of Mickey’s neck and then sucks on it as Mickey tilts his head to the side to give him access. “God. Yeah. Yes.” 

Ian tugs Mickey forward until his dick is caught between them. Ian leans back against the edge of the pool, using his grip on Mickey’s ass to grind their bodies together. Mickey finds Ian’s mouth again, kissing him hungrily, riding down against his thigh, needing friction.

“I know you guys aren’t fucking in that pool,” Lip shouts, “because we just got it filled and we’re not spending the summer swimming in jizz.”

“Nope,” Ian calls out. “Not fucking. No bodily fluids involved.”

“Food’s getting cold,” Fiona adds. 

Vee laughs. “Unlike the water in the pool. I can see the steam from here. Keep it up, and I’m gonna have to come over there and watch.”

Mickey presses his head to Ian’s shoulder, breathing roughly. There is absolutely no way he is ever getting out of this pool. Not just from the sheer embarrassment, but also from the fact that even their teasing hasn’t made his dick calm down. Ian’s hands are still firmly on his ass, rubbing and squeezing it, which might also be responsible for that.

Ian nuzzles Mickey’s ear. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“They’ll all know.”

“And probably listen at the doorway. So?”

“So?”

“Fine. Your place then.”

“No. Not my place.” Mickey shakes his head and tries to detach himself from Ian’s grip, but it tightens almost painfully, Ian’s fingers and nails digging in. “Ian.”

“Is he still there?” Mickey doesn’t say anything and Ian’s body tenses. He lets go of Mickey quickly and shoves him off. “Well. Guess you should go home and have him fuck you then.” Before Mickey can say anything, Ian grabs Mickey’s hand and curves it around his dick. Ian’s still hard and just the feel of it in his hand makes Mickey ache. “But remember this, huh?”

“You think I can forget?” Mickey pulls back and hauls himself out of the pool, tugging on his jeans over his wet boxers. He pulls his shirt on by the time he hits the sidewalk, not caring about his shoes or socks or how the hot pavement burns his feet.

**

His intention is to wash Ian off of him, but instead he jerks himself off until he’s lightheaded and weak-kneed. He bites his lip hard when he comes so he won’t make a noise. When he dries off he can feel the pinpoints of pain in his ass where Ian held him. He walks into the bedroom naked and pulls a cigarette from the pack on the bedside table.

It takes him a few minutes to remember to light it, and after the first two drags he just sits there and stares at the cherry. He jerks when Jeff touches him and ash flies everywhere, including onto his thighs. “Fuck! Fuck!” He stands up and brushes himself off, then stubs the cigarette into the ashtray. “Fuck.”

“Sorry.” Jeff’s lying on his side, his head propped up on his hand, his elbow digging into the pillow. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He scrapes his upper lip with his bottom teeth. “No.”

“Ah. We’re going to have the talk.” Jeff nods and sits up. “The ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ talk where you tell me to get the hell out. You’re not ready. You can’t do this. You can’t be what I need.” He laughs a little. “How’m I doing so far?”

Mickey shrugs. “I’m in love with Ian. Even when I didn’t know what it was, I was in love with him. It hasn’t changed. I don’t see it changing. Maybe someday. But not now.”

“Wow. No sugar-coating even.”

“I’m not really a sugar-coating kind of guy.”

“No. I guess you’re not.” He reaches out and rubs the back of Mickey’s neck, but it’s more of a friendly gesture than a sexual one. “Does he love you?”

“Dunno. He definitely doesn’t like me much.” Mickey laughs softly. “Are we gonna be weird now?”

“No. But no more pre-shift blowjobs.” Jeff scoots over on the bed so he’s sitting next to Mickey. “Or post-shift ones for that matter. Actually, no blowjobs at all. You sure you want to give that up for some six foot something Greek god?”

“He’s Irish.”

“Really? With a name like _Ian Gallagher_? I’m shocked. Really.” 

Mickey laughs and bumps him with his shoulder. “Thanks for not being a dick.”

“Oh, I probably will be. Right now I’m lulling you into a false sense of security.”

Mickey turns his head and smiles. “Just remember which of us has the gun.”

“We both do now.”

“Well, shit.” Jeff laughs and stands up, getting dressed. Mickey watches him, wishing that seeing him made him feel the way seeing Ian did. It would make his life a hell of a lot easier. “I’ll see you Tuesday morning. I’ll make a fresh pot of coffee.”

Jeff leans down and kisses Mickey hard and quick. “Let me know if you change your mind. I know you won’t, but...in case you do.”

“I will.” Mickey nods and then shakes his head. “But I won’t.”

**

Mickey’s sitting at the coffee shop where Ian works. Or used to work. Mickey’s not actually sure. He’s been there for an hour, cataloging all the ways this is the stupidest, most ridiculous, insane thing he’s ever done. Compared to a lot of the shit he’s done, it’s a tall order, but he knows he’s right. It took him weeks to work up the courage to come here, and now he’s been here the past three days in a row for five hours each. Time he should be sleeping instead of getting wired on expensive coffee and waiting for someone who probably won’t ever show up. 

He bounces Yevgeny on his knee. This is the last day. He’s only staying for an hour. Then he’ll take his kid to the zoo and remind himself that a good father doesn’t throw himself to the lions in front of his son. “You know, if you did get to choose where you came up on earth, you have the worst decision making skills of any person in the history of people.”

“Papa!”

“Exactly my point.”

“Unc! Unc! Unc!”

“Okay, that one’s new. What’s that one mean?” He furrows his brow then looks up as Yevgeny reaches up. Ian’s standing there waiting for Mickey’s okay for him to take him. “You want to go to Uncle Ian? Is that it?”

“Unc unc unc!”

Mickey lifts Yevgeny up and Ian takes him, holding him close, breathing him in. Fuck. Mickey’s jealous of a kid who isn’t even a year old. 

“Hey, you. Look at you. That’s one of Liam’s outfits, isn’t it? Taking after another handsome dude.” Yevgeny grins and Ian opens his mouth wide in exaggerated shock. “Who has five teeth?”

“Six,” Mickey tells him.

“Six teeth! That’s amazing. You’re obviously the most dentally talented child in the world.” He makes a goofy face and Yev giggles. Ian leans in to him and Yev leans forward. Like father, like son. “Don’t tell anyone else I said that. Our little secret. Okay?”

Yev nods and wraps his arms around Ian’s neck. Ian looks up at Mickey and he’s smiling, eyes bright. Fuck. “I thought you might like to see him. Lost your supplier when Mandy moved.”

“How’s she doing?”

“All right? Well, miserable. She doesn’t have anything to do, she’s bored out of her skull, and her neighbors look at her like she’s trash. At least when they did it here, her neighbors were trash too, so there wasn’t a lot of room to talk.” Mickey drains his coffee. “So we’re going to the zoo. There’s a baby gorilla and all that shit, so I thought he’d like it.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Yeah. Plus it’s free. Free’s good.” Mickey rubs his mouth and sniffs. “You’re probably working, huh?”

“Just came in for my paycheck. I quit.”

“Oh. Well. Lucky we caught you. Or maybe not. I don’t know. Maybe you’re wishing you didn’t run into us. Well, me. I know you don’t mind running into him. Anyway, we should probably get going.”

“I’ve never been.”

“Where?”

“To the zoo.”

Mickey nods. “Me either. I figure there’s a good chance I’m going to like it more than he does. Especially if there’s cotton candy. Sweet-tooth.”

“I remember.”

Mickey remembers too. Hard to forget a bullet wound. “So. Anyway. We’re going to go. To the zoo.”

“You want company?”

Mickey swallows his sigh of relief and nods. “Sure. That’d be great. First time for all three of us. The three amigos.”

“Three stooges.”

“Hey now, careful what you’re calling my kid.”

Ian hands Yevgeny back to Mickey. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll be back out.” 

Mickey nods and gets Yevgeny settled into his stroller. He leans in and whispers softly. “Mandy’s chick flicks were right. Kids and dogs are the way to go.” He kisses Yevgeny’s forehead then stands up, making sure he has everything and throwing away his coffee cup. He’s blown over eight bucks and travel expenses for this, and he hopes like hell it’s worth every penny.

So far, so good. But Mickey learned a long time ago not to trust anything that seems too good to be true.

Ian comes out and hugs a couple of people behind the counter, waving at them until he comes up to Mickey and grabs the stroller handle. “Okay. So let’s go to the zoo.”

They decide to walk rather than ride, and it’s nicer than Mickey expects. They’re quiet except for Yevgeny’s babbling that kicks into high gear whenever they see an animal. Or anything vaguely animal-shaped. 

“He doesn’t really think everything’s a cow. It’s just the only sound he’s got down pat.” Mickey explains after Yevgeny’s mooed at the fifth straight dog. 

“The last one totally looked like a cow.”

“You don’t have to humor him. He’s not old enough to appreciate it. Or hate you for it.” Mickey laughs softly. “How much is this kid going to hate me? If it’s one-tenth of how much I hate my dad...”

“You’re a good dad.”

“I fuck everything up.”

“No you don’t.”

“Yeah, I kinda do.” Mickey shrugs. “Least I won’t try to kill him if I find out he’s gay. That’s gotta be a plus in the Mickey column, right?”

“Well, I appreciate you not being homophobic.” Ian glances at him out of the corner of his eye. “I assume that means there won’t be any conversion rape attempts either?”

“You think I should try to make him be gay?” Mickey frowns. “I don’t know. Seems wrong somehow.”

Ian bumps his shoulder against Mickey’s and Mickey stumbles to the edge of the sidewalk. He jogs to catch up with Ian and pokes him in the side. 

“I could have been killed. You could have killed the father of my child.”

“How do you joke about that?”

Mickey’s quiet for a long time, and he starts to answer several times before he actually does. “I don’t know how else to deal with it. My dad hates what I am so much that...that’s what he’d do. Probably the least of what he’d do. So I laugh. And something good came out of it at least. Turn...all the bad into something better. Kind of throw it back in my dad’s face when Yevgeny grows up to be open-minded and liberal and progressive and all that shit. Sort of the ultimate fuck you.”

“You’re definitely not anything like your dad.”

“Thanks.”

Ian nods, like he knows exactly how much that means to Mickey. Hell, he has Frank for a father and Monica for a mother, so he probably does. The quiet after that is nice. It’s easy, which isn’t something Mickey’s used to. It’s only ever been easy with Ian. Most of the time quiet means danger, something hiding, ready to strike. With Ian it’s like a blanket. Safety.

“I think he’s out.”

“Huh?” Mickey glances in the stroller. “Yep. So much for the zoo.”

“We can still go. Tell him all about it.” Ian suggests. “I mean, if you want.”

“You think I’m going to pass up cotton candy? Not on your life, Gallagher.”

** 

Mickey’s sides hurt from laughing and his stomach hurts from his third cone of cotton candy. Ian insisted he try one of every color and tell him which tasted better. He didn’t seem to care that they all tasted like slightly burnt sugar. The colors had to mean something, so Mickey went to great lengths to describe them using every ridiculous word he could remember from the cooking shows he used to watch. He’d done everything he could to make Ian smile or laugh or look at him.

Yevgeny woke up halfway through and so they’d finished what they had left then looked around the first side again. Ian bought Yevgeny a stuffed penguin that he promptly started chewing on between mooing at it. 

Ian’s nose and cheeks are red from the sun, and Mickey can feel the itchy prickle of it on his arms. “Shit. Guess we should have spent our money on sunscreen.”

“You look like Rudolph.” Ian taps Mickey on the nose. 

“Yeah, well you’re a whole stop sign, Gallagher.” Mickey reaches up and rubs his thumb along Ian’s cheek. “Can’t even see the individual freckles. Just all one big one now.” The sunburn doesn’t have anything to do with hot how Mickey feels, looking up at Ian, touching him. He’s afraid to move, afraid that he’s gone too far and broken the spell of the day, ruined a good thing. 

“I’ve got some aloe at my place. It’s closer than yours. We’ll take the train this time.”

“You’ve obviously never taken the train with a packed stroller.”

“Oh my god, you are such a _dad_. You’re like a sit-com dad.” Ian deepens his voice and sways his shoulders from side to side. “You’ve obviously never taken the train with a packed stroller, son. It’s a rough thing in a man’s life.”

Mickey laughs and punches Ian’s arm. “Fucker.”

“He’s so cute.” Mickey and Ian look away from each other to the girl standing in front of the stroller. “Is he yours?” She looks at Ian first and then Mickey and smiles. “He looks like you. He must be yours.”

Ian eyes rake over her, and there’s a glint in them. “Ours, actually.” He puts his arm over Mickey’s shoulders and Mickey’s torn between shoving him off out of sheer instinct and leaning into him. Mickey knows he can beat the shit out of a lot of people, but when it comes to Ian he’s not a strong man. Leaning wins. “His sister carried him for us.”

“Oh.” She frowns, her nose wrinkling. “Well, he’s a cutie.”

“Sure is.” Mickey nods. “Like fathers, like son.” He takes the risk of sliding his arm around Ian’s waist. Ian tightens his grip on Mickey’s shoulder, keeping him close. She smiles, though her nose is still wrinkled. She walks away and Ian glances down at Mickey. 

“Like fathers, like son? That is the corniest thing you’ve ever said.” 

“Shut up. We’re both the father, right? Not like one of us is the mom.” He slaps Ian’s stomach. “And _Mandy_? Ew. That’s way too much like screwing my sister, and neither one of us does that shit.”

“She’s still watching.” 

Mickey looks up at him. “So? Fuck her.”

Ian shakes his head. “That was the whole point of the being together bit. So fucking her wasn’t on the table.” 

“You wanted to fuck her on the table? Kinky, Galla...” He stops when Ian kisses him. It’s nothing like the night in the pool. It’s slow and determined and deliberate. Ian’s tongue strokes against Mickey’s then teases the roof of his mouth. It’s like an onslaught in slow motion, like Ian’s determined to find every sensitive spot Mickey has. Mickey rises up on his toes, pressing closer as Ian’s hand curves around Mickey’s throat, thumb on his pulse. Ian finally pulls back and Mickey blinks at him. “-gher.”

“I think this is our train.”

“You can think?”

Ian laughs, and Mickey thinks it might be at him. Still, he manages to follow him, steering the stroller onto the train. He can see Ian mocking his comment about the stroller again and rams a wheel into his ankle. Ian laughs again, and it’s his loud, goofy guffaw that makes everyone look. Yevgeny starts laughing, kicking his feet and waving his hands in the air, which just makes Ian laugh more. The rest of the people in the car actually seem to start smiling, and Mickey knows he’s got a completely stupid grin on his face.

He knew he was fucked. He just never really realized how very badly.


	2. Chapter 2

Ian’s place looks the same except there’s another shelf added to his set up, and this one’s crammed full of food. It’s mostly cereal, soup, crackers and Pop-Tarts. “You probably eat out a lot, huh?”

“Yeah. Dinners mostly.” Ian sounds slightly defensive, though Mickey just shrugs. 

“Can I steal some Cheerios?”

“What? The cotton candy didn’t fill you up?”

“For the kid, asshole. He already ate through everything I brought. Svetlana says he’s have some sort of growth spurt. Having a kid apparently made her an expert on all things baby.”

“I remember Liam’s. He would try to eat everything. Carl and Debbie had a contest on who could get him to eat the weirdest shit. Raw spaghetti, uncooked hot dogs. We stopped them when Carl tried to feed Liam his boogers. It’s a wonder he didn’t get e. coli or something.”

“I just want some Cheerios, dude.”

Ian smiles. “Yeah. Help yourself. You can even have some for you if you want.”

Mickey flips him off before he grabs a plastic cup out of the diaper bag and refills it, setting it on the tray in front of Yevgeny. “So. You said you’ve got aloe?”

“Yeah.” Ian disappears behind the wall of milk crates, and Mickey can see him through the diamond-shaped openings. There’s a clatter of bottles and then Ian comes back out. “This is what we get for being pasty-skinned bastards.” He squeezes the gel into his hand then gives Mickey the bottle.

Mickey does the same, using his fingers to daub it out of his palm and onto his face. Ian runs a hand over the back of his neck, bending his head forward. Mickey moves away from him then back, since the step moved him closer to the bed.

“So,” Ian’s voice is a practiced kind of casual that he hasn’t gotten any better at than when he was fifteen. “How are things with you and Jeff?”

“Fine.”

“Oh. Oh, well, that’s great.”

“I mean, you don’t always get along with your ex, I guess. But I apparently seem to be pretty good at it.”

“You broke up.”

“Wow. You’re quick.” Mickey smirks. “What about you? Back up to a dozen? Baker’s dozen maybe?”

“No.”

Mickey nods. “Well, I should probably get home. It’s been a long day for the little guy, and I work tonight, so I should try to get some sleep.”

“You could crash here. I’ll watch him.”

“Nah. Thanks though. I need to get home.” He’s not sure where this apparent self-preservation instinct is coming from, because he’s certainly never had it before where Ian’s concerned. “Today was nice.”

“It was. Maybe we could do it again.”

“Yeah. Sure. I have him during the day on Wednesdays and Thursdays, Saturday all day and overnight. I mean, Svetlana’s usually there too, but I’m in charge of all feeding, crying, pooping, spitting up and any other bodily fluids that come along.”

“Dad of the year.”

“Not even close.” He puts a lid on the Cheerio cup and tucks it back into the diaper bag. “It was good to see you.”

“You too.” Ian grabs Mickey’s shoulder and turns him around, pulling him into a hug. Mickey can’t move at first, too surprised by the contact. Finally he presses his head against Ian’s shoulder and wraps an arm around him.

Ian’s breathing is ragged in Mickey’s ear. “You’ll call me?”

“Yeah. Absolutely. He likes you.”

“I hope you do too.”

“Eh, you’re all right.” Mickey rubs the short hairs on Ian’s neck with the palm of his hand.

“Thanks.” Ian pulls back and smiles. “Now go away.”

“Feeling the love, Gallagher. Don’t even try to pretend you won’t miss me.”

“And bruise your ego?”

“You could try.” Mickey steps back and grabs the stroller handle. “See ya.”

**

Svetlana’s sitting on the couch when Mickey gets home. “You see boyfriend?”

“I took the kid to the zoo.”

“Could just show baby your family photos.”

“Fuck you.” He unstraps Yevgeny and pulls him out of the stroller. He holds him, bouncing just a little bit. “I’m going to get some sleep. Try not to burn the house down or fuck any of my relatives. Any _more_ of them.”

She raises her eyebrow but comes over to take Yevgeny. “One night I kill you in your sleep.”

“Good luck paying the rent.”

“I do pay the rent,” she says with a smirk.

“I’ll just stop busting my ass then.”

“Not what you like to do with your ass.”

“You’re not even close to funny.” Mickey flips her off and goes to the bedroom. He leans against the closed door, closing his eyes and thumping his head against it. His face is flushed and hot and he knows it doesn’t have anything to do with his sunburn. All he can think about is the feel of Ian pressed against him, the hard muscle of his body, the way he breathed in unison with Mickey.

Mickey strips down to his boxers and makes sure the dark curtains are closed against the sun. He stretches out on the bed and exhales roughly. He knows it’s pointless to try and sleep. He’s had too much time with Ian invading his thoughts to pretend otherwise.

He covers his eyes with his forearm as he slides his other hand down over his stomach, over his boxers. He’s already mostly hard from the anticipation. He has hundreds of Ian fantasies. There isn’t a situation or position he hasn’t imagined them in. Today he wants simple. Just him and Ian together like they need each other to breathe.

He could have turned his head, found Ian’s mouth. He could have turned their hug into so much more. He knows the taste of Ian’s mouth that he remembers isn’t as good as the real thing. The memory of Ian’s tongue on his, of Ian fucking his mouth in a series of kisses deep and hard is enough to make Mickey’s knees weak.

_Ian stripping Mickey, running his broad hands over Mickey’s chest and back, curving over Mickey’s ass to pull him close, rocking his dick so that it slides against Ian’s, hot and slick skin rubbing together. Being guided down to the bed, laid out like a sacrifice, sprawled and hard. Ian’s green eyes holding Mickey’s, looking at him like he owns him as he tilts his head and takes Mickey into his mouth._

_Ian is pure heat to Mickey, burns him up like a moth to a flame. Ian’s mouth is hot and wet and tight, his cheeks hollowed as he sucks Mickey deep. Mickey moans and arches up, hips thrusting him deeper into Ian’s mouth. Mickey’s body shakes as Ian pulls off of him. His lips are wet with spit, and Mickey’s dick is shiny with it. Ian strokes Mickey’s thighs lightly, causing another shiver. He grabs Mickey’s hips and helps to turn him so Mickey can settle on his hands and knees. Mickey thrusts his ass up, knees already spread wide._

_Ian thrusts – fingers then cock – filling Mickey. Mickey is gasping, grinding back into Ian’s every forward push. Mickey’s cock is leaking on the sheet, leaving a trail of wet. He wants to touch, but not as much as he wants Ian to touch him. Ian’s hands slide from Mickey’s hips to his sides, over his stomach, settling on Mickey’s chest. Ian keeps his hands firm against Mickey, and them pulls him back. Mickey ends up straddling Ian’s thighs, knees pressed to his as he sinks back on Ian’s dick over and over until his whole world has narrowed down to this, to Ian buried inside him._

_Ian keeps one hand on Mickey’s chest and the other wraps around his cock. Mickey’s mouth opens, but he doesn’t make a sound as Ian jacking him off rides counterpoint to Mickey’s rocking hips._

_It’s too much all of a sudden and all Mickey can feel is Ian’s dick jerking as he comes. Mickey thrusts into Ian’s hand and then he’s coming too._

Mickey gasps and opens his eyes. The bedroom is still dark. He shucks off his wet boxers and wipes his hand on them before tossing them in the laundry basket. He falls back on the bed and rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. The problem with jerking off to thoughts of Ian is that his body is lazy and exhausted, but his mind is going at a million miles an hour sorting through every single mistake Mickey made.

Counting the ways he’s fucked up takes a lot longer than the amount of hours Mickey has left until his shift starts, but he does his best to think of as many as he can.

**

Mickey pulls three double shifts in the next few days, so he’s caught in a loop of piss, eat, and sleep. On Saturday Svetlana actually waits until ten before she puts Yevgeny on the bed next to him, smelly diaper in Mickey’s face.

“God, you’re a bitch,” he mumbles into his pillow, turning his head away from the smell. “You been saving that up all morning?”

“No. He gives daddy what he deserves. Going out. I’ll be home Sunday by five. If you get anyone killed, make sure is you, not him.”

Mickey flips her off, ignoring her laughter. He turns his head and Yevgeny's wriggled around so they’re face to face. “See? Fuck her. You love your daddy.”

“Papa!”

“What do you want to do today?”

“Ger! Ger!” Yevgeny giggles. “Go moo!”

Mickey drops his face back down into the pillow. “Let’s leave animals out of this. You want to go for a walk around by the lake?” Mickey turns his head to look at him again. “Could call Uncle Ian.”

“Unc!”

“First though, let’s get rid of the napalm in your pants.”

He gets them both clean through the magic of baby wipes, and then dressed. He doesn’t trust the sun outside, so he dresses Yevgeny in layers just in case. He’s also got the diaper bag and the bottom basket of the stroller loaded for bear.

He walks toward the El and dials Ian, refraining from flipping off the old ladies on the street who are probably wondering if they should call social services. He’s not too worried about them, though. They never actually called about Terry.

“Mm. ‘Lo?”

Ian’s voice is thick with sleep and Mickey bites his lower lip hard to keep his head in the game. “Hey. It’s Mick.”

“Hey.” Mickey hears the click of a lighter and Ian’s inhale and exhale. “Hi.”

Ian’s voice is pretty much the definition of sex for Mickey, and he takes a deep breath before talking. He doesn’t need his voice cracking like he’s some fucking teenager. “You busy?”

“’m sleeping.”

“I’m talking the kid to the lake. Or maybe some cultural shit. Saving the whore houses and crack dens until he can walk on his own. You want to join us.”

“Oh. Yeah. I would. But I have a thing.”

“Oh. Yeah. Okay. Cool. Maybe next time?”

Ian takes another drag from his cigarette. “Are you being passive-aggressive at me?”

“Fuck know. I only do aggressive-aggressive. Fuck that passive bullshit.”

Ian laughs. “Okay. Fair. Sorry.”

“I’m not pissed. Just wanted to offer. Since I guess we’re trying this whole friends thing. And he’s always excited at the idea of seeing you. So maybe next time.”

“I should be finished around five. I could come by. I mean, it’s not a crack den, but we could do pizza and a movie?”

“He’s probably going to want to watch Bambi or some shit.”

“Don’t be ashamed, Mickey. Bambi makes everybody cry.”

“Fuck off.”

“I’ll be there by seven. I’ll bring the movie since you have shit taste.”

“You bring over any of that subtitled arty shit and I’m punching you in the dick.”

“I thought you wanted to expose him to culture.”

“Culture. Not pretentious bullshit. I’ve got beer.”

“See you at seven.”

**

Yevgeny falls asleep pretty much the second Mickey lays him in the crib. Mickey shuts the bedroom door most of the way before going out to make some attempt to make the shit-sty of his house look presentable. Ian knocks before he gets very far, opening the door before Mickey can do anything. He comes in with the pizza in front of him and Mickey has to give him credit. It’s a good defense.

“That better be _real_ pizza.”

“Now that just hurts my feelings.”

“Hurt something else if the pizza’s shit.”

“Pizza, by definition, cannot be shit.” Ian hands the box to Mickey. “Where’s Yev?”

“Sleeping. Afraid you’re stuck with me for a while.” Mickey sets the pizza on the coffee table and goes to the kitchen for plates. 

“It’s okay if you still want to watch Bambi. I won’t tell.” Ian sits on the couch with his legs sprawled and grins over the back of it at Mickey.

“Just put the movie in, asswipe.”

Ian gets up, still smiling, and grabs his backpack from the floor. He carries it over to the DVD player. Mickey sits on the couch and opens the pizza box, dishing out a thick slice for each of them.

“What are we watching?”

“Original Robocop. Extra bloody edition.”

“Is that the official name?” Mickey takes a bite of his pizza, licking sauce from his lips.

Ian watches then shrugs. “Close enough.” He settles back on the couch and Mickey can feel the heat of Ian’s body. Mickey tries to concentrate on the movie, reminds himself that Ian was probably on one of his dates earlier. “This is so much better than the remake.”

“What original isn’t?” Mickey grabs another slice of pizza. “You want a beer?”

“Yeah. You want me to get them?” Ian stands up. “Gotta take a piss anyway.”

“Wow. And they say romance is dead.” Mickey flushes when he realizes what he said, refusing to look at Ian.

“Yup. That’s me. Complete romantic.” Ian rolls his eyes and heads to the bathroom. Mickey knows better than anyone that Ian _is_ a complete romantic. He bangs his head on the back of the couch and groans. He, on the other hand, is a complete moron. He’s tempted to wake Yevgeny just for a buffer between them.

Ian taps Mickey on the shoulder with a can of beer, then hands two of them to him before vaulting over the back of the couch. He crashes into Mickey, shoulder to shoulder.

Mickey bumps into Ian hard to shove him off. Ian grins in delight and bumps back until they end up shoving each other. Ian gets on his knees on the couch as Mickey starts smacking him with a throw pillow. They’re both laughing, neither of them paying attention to the movie. 

Ian manages to grab the pillow and jerks on it. Mickey’s breath catches as Ian pulls him against his chest.

“H-hey.”

“Hi.” Ian lets go of the pillow, his breathing rough. Mickey’s breath syncs with his, chests rising and falling together. “Shit.”

“Yeah. That.” Mickey nods, and Ian leans in, cheek rubbing against Mickey’s. Mickey’s breathing stops. “We can’t do this Ian.” He sounds unconvincing even to himself. “ _I_ can’t do this.”

“I made a stupid mistake.”

“Yeah.” Mickey pulls away and shakes his head. “I did too. We can’t be friends.”

“Then let’s be more again. I won’t fuck it up this time.”

“Ian.”

“I love you.”

Mickey feels the words like a punch to the gut. “Fuck, Ian.” 

Ian curves his hand along Mickey’s jaw. “Still, Mick. Fuck. Always.”

“Don’t.”

“Too late.”

“No. Don’t. You can’t. This...this is my life, Ian. A kid. A fake marriage. Hiding. My dad will kill me. Both of us. We just need to stop. Stop pretending.”

“You’re the one pretending by hiding behind all of that.” Ian lets out a frustrated breath. “Stopping. That’s what you want.” It’s not a question, but it’s not a statement either. It’s somewhere in between, just like them.

“No. But it’s reality.”

“And you’re willing to just accept that?”

“What the fuck do you expect me to do? I can’t just walk away.”

“Like I did?” Ian’s voice is sharp, bitter. “I walked away because of _you_!”

“So it’s my fault?”

“I asked you not to marry her!”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to fucking _die_. You think what I wanted was any part of that, Ian? You think I had a fucking say?”

“You could have stood up to him. Walked out. Stayed...stayed with me.”

“What fucking fairy tale do you live in?”

Ian huffs out a breath and gets off the couch. “Okay.”

“What does that mean?”

“Okay. This isn’t going to happen. We’re over.”

Mickey throws his hands up. “I _tried_ , Ian. I tried to make it work and you broke the rules. We were fine and it was good and you broke the rules. Weren’t you fucking happy?”

“Yes.”

“Yes? Well then, I hope fucking him was worth it.”

“What if...we could go back? Try again. I know it doesn’t make sense, but we were good together. We were _so_ good together.”

“You want me to trust you again, and I’ve got no idea why I should.” Mickey scoffs. “Christ. I sound like a fucking chick. You do this to me. You make me act like a goddamned moron.”

Ian fights a smile. “You know why, right?”

“Shut the fuck up. Mickey tries hard not to smile at him. “Goddamn it, Gallagher.” Ian grabs Mickey’s belt loop and tugs him closer. Mickey sighs and shakes his head. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“Not when I want something.” Ian pulls him in so there’s no room between them. “Someone.”

“You’re ridiculous. I’m beginning to think you don’t fuck on those dates of yours. You sit around and watch fucking chick flicks.” Mickey means it as a joke, but Ian’s face goes blank. 

When Ian doesn’t say anything, Mickey groans. “I’m giving you shit.” He says the word softly and doesn’t move away. “It’s the fucking hippo in the room, right?”

“You mean elephant?”

“What?”

“Elephant in the room.”

“Whatever big-ass gray animal in the room you want.” Ian starts to say something, probably smartass, but he gets cut off by the sound of Yevgeny crying. “Shit. Hang on.” Mickey slips free of Ian’s grip and goes into the bedroom. “Hey, dude.”

“Papa!”

“Right here. Got a surprise for you too. C’mon.” He picks Yevgeny up out of the crib and carries him into the living room. Mickey would never admit it, but he loves the way Yevgeny smells, so he presses his face against the side of his head as he walks.

Ian’s not in the living room and Mickey’s not sure if he’s upset or disappointed or resigned. All three. He hears noises in the kitchen, so he walks further into the room and doesn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until he starts breathing again.

The pizza plates are stacked in the sink and Ian’s head is buried in the fridge as he moves things around to put the pizza box inside. Yevgeny bounces in Mickey’s grip and struggles to get down, so Mickey sets him on the floor and watches him scoot toward Ian. He hasn’t quite mastered crawling, but he manages to get around sliding on his ass. He huffs out a breath each time his butt hits the ground, grunting his way across the linoleum.

“That sounds like an elephant in the room.” Ian peeks out of the fridge and smiles. “No! It’s Yev!”

“Unc! Unc! Unc!” Yevgeny holds out his arms and overbalances himself, flopping over in his excitement. He looks confused as hell at his sudden lack of movement, and glances at Mickey like he’s supposed to have an explanation.

“Gravity sucks, kid.”

Ian gets up and scoops Yevgeny off the floor swinging him up above his head.

“Careful. He’s a drooler.”

“Aww. Like Papa.”

“Fuck you.”

“It’s true, Yev. Papa would lay on Uncle Ian’s chest and fall asleep and drool on him.”

Mickey flips Ian off, but he’s smiling. “You’re such a dick, Gallagher.”

“Uncle Ian didn’t mind though.” He swings Yevgeny down toward the ground and then back up over his head. Yevgeny shrieks in delight and Mickey leans against the door jamb. “He misses your papa’s drool.”

“Uncle Ian wants Papa to spit on him.”

Ian looks at Mickey, his eyes running up and down Mickey’s body. “There are parts of me...”

“Not in front of the kid, you pervert.”

Ian settles Yevgeny on his hip, reaching out with his free hand. He snags Mickey’s arm and pulls him in, wrapping his arm around Mickey. Ian’s eyes are bright and amused, but there’s something dark in them too. He rests his forehead against Mickey’s. “I miss you.”

Mickey gives up. Gives in. Surrenders. He raises up and presses his mouth to Ian’s. It’s completely different from how it was in the pool and at the train, though Mickey can feel the rush of need that seems to be his body’s translation of Ian. The kiss stays light, gentle. It’s the kind of kiss they’d share before when they were tangled up on Ian’s bed while Yevgeny was napping.

Ian’s lips part slightly and Mickey traces them with his tongue. Ian’s tongue darts out and touches Mickey’s. Mickey presses closer, licking at Ian’s lips again.

Yevgeny wriggles in Ian’s arm. “Papa.”

Mickey pulls away feeling as breathless as if he’s been kissing Ian for hours.

“Papa. Num num.”

Mickey exhales shakily and steps back. “Don’t even think about the pizza, bubba. You’re getting squash and the baby shit yellow stuff they swear is chicken and vegetables.”

“If I’d known you had _that_ I wouldn’t have bothered getting pizza.”

“Which is why you _didn’t_ know, because this shit is nasty. Get him in the high chair?” Mickey gets the jars out of the cupboard and pulls a baby spoon out of the drawer. He rinses it with hot water just to be safe before coming over to the table. “You want to do the honors?”

“Sure.” Ian sits at the table next to the high chair and opens both jars of food. Mickey watches for a moment then goes over and turns the movie off. He sits sideways on the couch, feet on the cushions, watching them. Ian keeps up a steady stream of chatter and Yevgeny babbles and moos back at him. By the time he’s finished, he’s only wearing about a quarter of his dinner, but Mickey has to laugh at Ian, since he’s always wearing his fair share.

“You both need baths.” Mickey gets off the couch and picks Yevgeny up and heading for the bathroom. “You first, since hopefully Uncle Ian can keep from getting any messier, though I may be giving him too much credit.” He looks back over his shoulder in time to see Ian flip him off.

Mickey has bath time down to a science, able to get Yevgeny stripped down and in the water mostly one-handed. Ian comes in and sits on the toilet to watch, and Mickey can’t help glancing up at him.

“What?”

“You’re a good dad.”

“Pure guesswork. I mean, it’s not like I had any good examples, so I just go by the principle of doing the exact opposite of what I think Terry would do.”

“Sounds like good parenting advice.” Ian reaches out and brushes a strand of hair back off Mickey’s forehead. “You have something I can change into?”

“That’ll fit you?”

“Preferably, yeah.”

“I don’t know. You’re all tall and manly and buff. You might shred my clothes like the Incredible Hulk.”

“Pretty sure a pair of sweats might survive.”

Mickey carefully rinses the shampoo out of Yevgeny’s hair, letting the water and suds flow back away from his face. “Everything’s where it was. Help yourself. I’m going to get this guy in pajamas.”

“Kid’s going to be the next Hugh Hefner.”

“Well, if that’s the case, he needs to get his pop a few Playboy bunnies.”

“Really?” Ian cocks an eyebrow, and Mickey hears a hint of something that might be jealousy in his voice. “And what would his pop do with them?”

“Rent them out by the hour. Can make some serious bank doing that is what I hear.”

“You hear that, do you?”

Mickey grabs a towel and wraps Yevgeny up in it. “Rumor on the street.” He holds Yevgeny to his chest and kisses Ian softly. “Don’t worry. Sure they won’t be worth as much as your ass. You’ve got a much higher market value.” He kisses Ian again, biting his lower lip and sucking on it before heading to Svetlana’s room to diaper and dress Yevgeny.

He hears the shower come on and chews his lower lip for a few moments before turning on the mobile and putting Yevgeny in his crib with his stuffed penguin.

“Sorry, kiddo. I’m only human.”

**

Mickey leaves the bathroom door open in an effort to not feel like a completely shitty parent. He strips out of his clothes and pulls the shower curtain back. Ian blinks water out of his eyes. “Thank fuck.”

Mickey climbs in with Ian’s hands all over him, pulling him close and kissing him. Mickey fumbles to pull the curtain back with one hand as he wraps the other around Ian’s waist. He doesn’t know if he succeeds and doesn’t actually care when Ian cups his ass and pulls Mickey up on his toes so their dicks slide together.

“Yes,” Mickey hisses as Ian grinds them together, his mouth busy sucking a hickey on Mickey’s throat. “God, Ian.” His own hands can’t stop moving over Ian. He caresses the tightness of Ian’s ass, the broad muscles of Ian’s back. Touching Ian is like breathing, completely essential for Mickey to survive.

Ian pulls back and looks at Mickey for a moment. His mouth is wet and he’s breathing hard. Mickey knows he’s staring, and he can’t quite control the fear that Ian’s going to change his mind. It feels like a lead weight inside him.

Ian shakes his head and smiles, gripping Mickey’s waist for support as he goes down on his knees. “I-Ian.”

Ian blows a warm breath against the head of Mickey’s dick, mouth close enough that when Ian licks his lips, his tongue brushes the slit at the tip of Mickey’s cock. Only Ian’s hands on his hips keep Mickey from moving, at least until Ian takes him in his mouth.

Mickey grasps the shower bar with one hand and curves the other over the back of Ian’s head. Mickey’s pretty sure every nerve ending in his body is directly connected to his dick. He feels like everything is firing at once, and somewhere in the back of his mind he thinks he might be shaking. He’s definitely moaning Ian’s name and rocking forward against the iron grip on his hips.

Ian slides off Mickey’s dick, looking up and licking his lips. Mickey imitates the gesture on instinct and then Ian’s mouth is on him again, taking him deeper. Mickey rocks up on the balls of his feet, thrusting into Ian’s mouth. The water from the shower feels cold in comparison to the hot suction.

Mickey’s hand tightens on the back of Ian’s head and he rolls his hips. Ian grip goes slack and he moves his hands in opposite directions – his left moving down to cup Mickey’s balls and the right to Mickey’s ass, rubbing against his opening. Mickey shivers and his head falls back.

He whimpers when Ian removes his finger, the pressure, and then again when Ian starts massaging his balls. Mickey vaguely hears the snap of a lid and thrusts into Ian’s mouth.

“That better not b-be fucking...oh fuck, Ian. Just...right...oh god.” Mickey’s ass clenches as he fights the urge to give in and fuck Ian’s mouth. “Better not be sh-shamppo. Be sh-sh-shitting bubbles for we-weeks.”

Ian chokes on a laugh and pulls off of Mickey coughing. “You...you stupid fuck.” His eyes are red from tears and the sting of the shower spray, but his smile makes Mickey’s heart race. “Turn around.”

Mickey does, his back to the spray now. Ian spreads Mickey’s ass, leaning in and biting one cheek. Mickey clenches again and thrusts forward into the air. Ian’s tongue swipes across Mickey’s hole and Mickey’s head drops forward, smacking against the shower wall. He groans roughly, knowing that if Ian’s tongue touches him again, he’s likely going to lose control and come all over the wall.

“Christ, Mick.” Ian licks the cheek he bit and then sucks on it. “Missed this. Missed you.” Ian nuzzles Mickey’s ass and then his mouth is on him, tongue circling the tight ring of muscle before painting over it. Mickey whines at the back of his throat, arches his back.

Ian spreads him open wider, flicking his tongue over the sensitive skin. Mickey’s nails scramble at the wall and then Ian’s thumbs bracket the hole, pulling the skin taut, opening Mickey up and then pressing his tongue inside. Mickey can’t think, can’t breathe. All he can do is feel Ian’s tongue moving, licking and thrusting, his mouth covering Mickey, unrelenting.

“Fuck. Ian. Fuck. You...please. God. Please don’t...oh, god.”

Ian hums, mouth vibrating. Mickey’s shaking, flying apart and then Ian’s fingers are in him, working him open, tongue still teasing, flickering against the rim.

Mickey pants like he’s a marathon runner, and his brain whites out. Ian is still fingering him, still licking him, but Mickey’s beyond being able to process the sensation. Ian doesn’t relent and Mickey thinks he might be begging. He knows he falls to his knees at some point, but the pain of impact doesn’t register over the feel of Ian on him, over him, in him.

He has no idea when he came, no idea when Ian did. He knows the water goes off at some point and it’s possible that before that it went cold. His mind has simply forgotten how things work. “’m dead. Think ‘m dead.”

Ian doesn’t respond, which he wouldn’t if Mickey actually is dead. Or if Ian is. Mickey’s pretty sure anything is possible at this point.

“Need...need to check on Yev.” He’s pretty sure he isn’t dead. If he was he could probably just float through Ian’s body on top of him. Ian moves then, his hand skating over Mickey’s side and Mickey shudders, his body still overloaded.

“I can get up,” Ian promises him, but he doesn’t actually move. “Next week maybe.”

“Mm.” Mickey turns his head and glances back at Ian. “So. That was...”

“Yeah.” Ian rests his forehead on Mickey’s shoulder then braces himself, easing out of Mickey and levering himself to his knees.

“Not sure I can stand. Or move. Or have bones. Fuck, Gallagher.”

Ian gets out of the tub and on solid ground then helps Mickey up. Mickey leans heavily on him as he steps out, not moving away even when he’s got both feet on the ground. Ian wraps his arms around Mickey, holding him close.

“We’re good together,” Ian says.

“You’re spoiling the moment.”

“Need to convince you while your brain is deprived of oxygen.”

“I came my brains out. Don’t have anymore.”

“Please? Try again?”

Mickey knows he’s going to give in. He always ways. Ian’s his Achilles heel or Waterloo. Something else historical that Mickey knows means defeat. “We can talk about it.”

“Not going to fuck up again.” Ian catches Mickey under the chin and tilts it upward. He looks Mickey square in the face. “Not going to fuck us up. I need you.”

“We’ll talk. Not tonight, but we’ll talk.” Mickey pulls away and dries himself off enough to put his boxers back on. He takes Ian and Yevgeny’s clothes and throws them in the washing machine. Ian’s walking naked to Mickey’s room when Mickey heads in to get Yevgeny, and he can’t help but stop and appreciate the view. Once the door shuts behind Ian, Mickey goes into Svetlana’s room and pulls Yevgeny out of his crib.

“Kid, remember your daddy fondly, because he is so very fucked.”

**

Mickey wakes up in the morning on his bed with Ian pressed against his back, Yevgeny snuggled against his chest, and Svetlana smirking down at him. “See? Boyfriend.”

“It’s too early for you. Fuck off.”

“Hope you did not fuck in front of baby. Is very impressionable age.”

“Seriously. Fuck the fuck off.”

Svetlana laughs and picks Yevgeny up off the bed.

“And close the damn door behind you.”

“I see enough penises. Don’t need to see either of yours.”

The door shuts and Ian grins against Mickey’s neck. “I think I’m starting to grow on her.”

“She wants us both to die a fiery death.” Mickey turns over so he’s facing Ian. “Been a long time since I’ve woken up to you. With you.”

“You too. The real you. Not the early morning fantasy you I jerk off thinking about.”

“You’d better not be jacking off in front of the real me. There’s better things you could be doing with your dick.”

“You wouldn’t want to watch?” Ian cocks an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t want me to put on a show for you?”

“Jesus,” Mickey groans.

Ian rolls on his back and rubs his dick through the borrowed pair of Mickey’s boxers. He watches Mickey as he rubs, his dick hardening. “Show you what I do when I think about you?” Sliding his hand beneath the waistband, Ian wraps it around his dick, stroking a few times. Mickey’s eyes travel down Ian’s arm to where his wrist disappears beneath the waistband.

“Wanna see.”

Ian releases his dick and raises his hips off the bed, pushing the boxers off. Mickey licks his lips and doesn’t look away as Ian wraps his hand around his cock again as his other hand curls around the base.

He starts stroking, just rubbing himself lightly. He runs his palm over the head of his dick and then down the shaft again. Mickey can see the hint of pre-come gather at the slit.

“Think about you in the morning. Waking up with you.” Ian’s voice is low and rough, thick with something. “My dick against your ass. The way you’d grind back against it. The way I’d slide in the crack of your ass. The way we’d rub against each other.”

Mickey licks his lips again, watching Ian’s hand as it strokes from base to tip, still slowly. Ian’s dick is thick and long, darkening with blood. The veins are stark against his skin and the head is flushed. Mickey wants to touch, to feel Ian in his hand, but he doesn’t move.

“You’d move your leg just a bit. Give me more room to work with. Rub my hand over your thigh up to your ass. Remember?”

Mickey’s absolutely certain there’s nothing about being with Ian that he’s forgotten. He nods and Ian smiles. It’s a private smile, one Mickey’s never seen Ian use with anyone else, not even his family. It’s a smile just for Mickey.

“Get my knee between your legs. Head of my dick against your balls. Your skin so hot. Fingers digging into your thigh to keep you close.”

“Not going anywhere.”

Ian laughs this time, and his hand starts moving a little faster on his dick. Mickey’s mesmerized by the movement, watching Ian’s palm slide over the head and spread pre-come over it, down the length of his dick.

“Pull back just a little. Line us up. Push inside you. You’re always so tight. Always tight for me, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. ‘Cause ‘m yours. Yours, Ian. Just yours.” Mickey licks his lips and tries to swallow as he reaches out and touches Ian’s wrist. “Always.”

“Fuck,” Ian gasps. He takes his hand from around the base of his dick and grabs Mickey’s wrist, grabbing his hand and guiding it to his dick. “Touch me.”

Mickey wraps his hand around Ian. Ian threads their fingers together so they’re both holding him. Ian’s hot to the touch, his skin smooth against Mickey’s palm. Ian’s grip tightens and Mickey does the same. Ian arches off the bed, every muscle tight, breathing hard with his green eyes locked on Mickey.

Mickey feels like he can’t breathe, too caught up in Ian. “Fuck, Ian.” He leans in, his tongue sliding across the wet slit, moaning softly as Ian coats the tip of his tongue.

Ian groans in response, his whole body jerking at the contact. Mickey does it again and this time Ian chokes and comes before he can say anything to warn Mickey. 

Mickey looks up and blinks at him. “Really?”

“Shit. Sorry.” Ian bites his lip to keep from laughing, but he doesn’t quite manage to keep it in. “I’m sorry. I am.”

“Fucker,” Mickey says without any heat. He puts his face against Ian’s stomach and rubs it from side to side. Ian laughs and tries to push him off, but Mickey’s a stubborn fucker and manages to smear it all over Ian. “See what you get?”

“It’s your fault. You’re the one who made it happen.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“You look ridiculous.” Ian reaches out and runs a finger lightly over the eyelashes of Mickey’s left eye. “All spiky.”

Mickey bats his hand away. “Shut up.”

Ian grabs the back of Mickey’s neck, pulling him in and kisses him. Mickey wants to protest, but Ian’s tongue slides against his. Mickey moans and leans back to the bed, pulling Ian on top of him. Ian goes willingly, thigh pressed against Mickey’s erection. He rocks forward, pressure building until he pulls back. Mickey can feel come leaking through his boxers onto his stomach, and he rocks his hips up to grind into Ian.

“Taste like me,” Ian whispers into Mickey’s mouth.

“Because you came the fuck all over my face.”

“You say that like you don’t like it.” Ian bites Mickey’s jaw then licks the skin.

“You jizzed in my _face_.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Ian promises as he nuzzles him. “Suck you? Jerk you off? What should I do for forgiveness?”

“Should make you use the ben-wa balls.” Mickey means it as a joke. His dad destroyed the set he had after he walked in on Mickey and Ian. He’d torn Mickey’s bedroom apart looking for evidence of Mickey being a fag. Ian pulls back at him, smiling slowly.

“Yeah? We never got the chance to before.”

“I was joking. I don’t have them anymore.”

“Hmm. Might be able to go one better.” Ian shifts onto his knees. “Get naked.”

“Sir, yes sir.” Mickey shoves his boxers off and looks at Ian expectantly. “Now what?”

“Hands and knees.” Mickey starts to turn over and Ian slaps his ass. “Come on. Assume the position.”

“I’m working on it.”

Ian rubs his hands over Mickey’s ass once he’s settled, then he grabs one of the pillows and slides it between Mickey and the bed.

“You’d better not put any weird shit in my ass, Gallagher.”

“You wanted me to shove balls inside your ass.” Ian kisses Mickey’s hip. “Nothing weird.” Ian grabs the lube off the night stand. “But it’s going to be good.”

There’s something in Ian’s voice – actual promise – that makes Mickey shiver. Ian opens the lube and lets it trickle down the crack of Mickey’s ass before he rubs his fingers through it. Mickey takes a deep breath, exhaling as Ian pushes a finger inside him. He fucks him slowly and it’s not long before Mickey squirms.

“More.”

“Mm,” Ian purrs and rubs a second finger along the tight muscle. “More?”

“Yeah.”

The second finger slides in and Mickey’s breath catches slightly with the stretch. Ian keeps up the slow pace, taking his time thrusting, spreading his fingers, scissoring Mickey open. 

Mickey arches his back and pushes into Ian’s thrust. “More. Need it.”

“Need it?” Ian’s voice is a low growl that makes Mickey’s cock jerk.

“Need you.”

“Got me.” Ian kisses the curve of Mickey’s ass. “Can give you more though.” Ian pours more lube directly above where his fingers are buried in Mickey’s ass, working it in, spreading Mickey wider.

Mickey groans in a mixture of relief and need as a third finger fills him. Ian has his fingertips templed together, wider near his palm. Mickey presses down into the pillow and then back up toward Ian. “Harder. Fuck. Harder, Ian.”

“Harder?” Ian’s voice shoots up Mickey’s spine. “Or more?”

“You, Ian. Your dick. Please.”

“You put my dick out of commission.” There’s a warm trickle of lube again and then Ian eases his hand almost completely out before pushing it in with four fingers.

“Oh, fuck.” Mickey shudders and his body tightens. He pants out a series of rough breaths, ending on a whine when Ian turns his hand, curves his fingers. Mickey clenches the sheets and tries to swallow the noises Ian’s pulling out of him with every push of his hand.

“Look...fuck, Mickey. You look so good spread open for me.”

“I-Ian. Please, god.”

“Please?” Ian draws out the word as he pulls his hand back. In the reptilian part of his brain that’s screaming at him, Mickey knows what’s coming. He used the balls on himself. But this is different. This is Ian. All Ian. Only Ian.

Mickey falls forward, hitting the headboard as Ian works his hand in again and curls his fingers into a fist. They’re both covered in lube, and Mickey’s soaked in sweat. His dick flags at the pressure and pain. He doesn’t actually soften, but it’s enough that it gives him a moment of relief from the building need, the tightness in his balls from how hard he was.

Ian fills Mickey up and then waits. His breath is hot as it fans across Mickey’s back. They breathe in unison though there’s nothing measured or even about it. Finally Mickey nods and Ian presses a kiss to his spine. “Okay?”

Mickey nods again. “Good. Yeah. Please. Just...god, Ian.”

Ian pushes his hand in deeper and then slowly spreads his fingers. Mickey’s eyes roll back and his dick is hard again. Harder. Ian fists his hand again and then spreads it, repeating the gesture over and over. Mickey’s pretty sure he’s babbling. Begging. Ian works him steadily and Mickey sinks down to his elbows, his arms shaking too much to support him. 

He doesn’t think he can take any more, but then Ian is thrusting and stretching his hand more. Mickey’s eyes burn with tears, and his brain is in overload. Ian’s fingertips brush Mickey’s prostate and Mickey loses control, knees slipping on the bed as he comes.

Ian tries to distract Mickey with licking kisses on his spine, but Mickey can feel every inch of Ian’s hand as he pulls it free. Mickey doesn’t even pretend to be able to function. He slumps on the bed, mostly sure he’s still breathing. 

He turns his head and looks at Ian. “Think I’m dead.”

“You’re too pretty to die. Besides, only the good die young.” Ian slaps Mickey’s ass which earns him a rough groan. “Going to clean up.” 

Mickey nods and closes his eyes. He can hear Ian dressing, walking, hear the door knob turning. “Ian?”

All the ambient noise seems to stop. “Yeah?”

Mickey’s said it before in a thousand different ways and meant it every time. “I love you.”

He can tell Ian’s smiling. “I know.”


	3. Chapter 3

Logistically, it’s a nightmare. Mickey has weekends off, and weekends are Ian’s busiest time. When Mickey shows up at Ian’s in the morning Ian’s either at the grocery store working or asleep. Mickey spends a lot of time sitting on the mattress with Yev and telling him stories, most of which are about how Uncle Ian is a dickhead. Yevgeny doesn’t seem to listen, and he certainly doesn’t agree, because he goes to Ian as soon as Ian walks in. Mickey just stays on the mattress or the blow up chair and watches. Ian’s fucking beautiful. Definitely too beautiful for Mickey.

Today though, Yevgeny is with Svetlana even though it’s Mickey’s day. She fucked up the schedule for her new venture she’s got going, so they’ve switched days. Mickey’s sitting on Ian’s toilet, watching Ian stretched out in the bath. “Date tonight?”

“You don’t want to talk about those, remember?”

“I didn’t ask for gory details.”

“Yeah.” Ian sounds dubious.

“Do you have special date clothes? I mean, whenever I see you you’re dressed like you.”

Ian leans against the side of the tub, fingers curled over the edge. He looks at Mickey for a moment. “Why are you asking about this stuff?”

“I’m just curious how it works.”

“Well.” Ian leans back again and the water laps at his chest. Mickey stares at it, thinking about how warm Ian’s skin must be. “We meet somewhere. Usually it’s a bar, restaurant, or a club. I dress for the location.”

“Nice clothes?”

“Nice-ish. It’s not like they’re going to take their teenage escort to a black tie event.”

“Why not? You’d look hot in a suit. Or a tux. You’d definitely look hot in a tux.” He leans back against the tank, crossing his arms over his chest and his feet at the ankles. “You should make one of them spring for that.”

“Maybe.” Ian’s watching him warily and Mickey sighs.

“I just want to know what you do. Not...not the sex part. _Never_ tell me the sex part.”

“Mostly it’s the sex part.” Ian shrugs. “They don’t buy me fancy clothes because they prefer me out of them. They don’t pay me for my scintillating conversation. They pay me for my dick.”

“And you’re cool with that?” There’s no judgment in Mickey’s tone. Curiosity. Confusion, maybe. His feelings about what Ian does are tied up too much in who Ian is to him.

“I’m cool with being able to pay the rent on the house. Help Fiona buy food. Help Lip pay for college. Save money for Carl and Debbie and Liam. To live on my own. To not have to _worry_ all the fucking time.”

“But they’re using you.”

“I’m using them. And what the fuck? That’s what we do. It’s the south side’s stock in trade.”

“Yeah. Okay. Okay.” Mickey goes over to the mini-fridge and pulls out a beer. “Whoever thought I’d be the one holding down an actual job, huh?”

“I know you don’t like it.”

“That doesn’t matter. I mean, what I like. I deal. Sex is just sex, right?”

“Yeah.” Ian’s eyes narrow. Mickey’s definitely seen that look before. “Are you sleeping with someone else?”

Mickey shrugs. “No one since Jeff.”

“And you’re not fucking him anymore.”

“Nope. Not fucking him. He’s not fucking me.” Mickey takes a long drink and belches. “I should get out of your hair.”

Ian stands up and the water slides off of him, and Mickey watches him over the rim of the beer can. “I wrote down my grocery store schedule for you.” He climbs out of the tub and wraps a towel around his waist. “How come you come over anyway?”

“If I’m getting in your way, just say so. I’m not trying to cramp your style or anything.”

“I didn’t say any of that. It’s just that there’s nothing to do here. Don’t you get bored?”

“Yev and I play. We read shit. Nap.” Mickey shrugs. “I get to see you.”

“For a half hour. Maybe.”

“That’s a half hour more than if I don’t come over. If it’s a problem, I’ll stop.”

“It’s not a problem. I guess I just don’t get it.”

Mickey’s mouth quirks in a smile, though it’s not much of one. “Guess I just like you.” He glances at Ian’s wrist as Ian puts his watch on. Mickey knows it was a present, knows how much it costs, knows its street value. “I’m going to head home. Maybe see you this weekend?”

“Things both nights, but I’ll come by Saturday after I stop at home.”

“Cool. See ya, Gallagher.”

“Mickey.” He stops at the door and turns. Ian walks up to him and kisses him slowly, thoroughly and it takes a lot of self-control for Mickey not to rip the towel off of Ian and drop down to his knees. “I’ll see you Saturday.”

Mickey nods and opens the door. “You know where I live.”

**

It’s after five on Saturday, and Mickey’s not sure if he should be pissed or accepting after the conversation with Ian. It’s probably better like this. The everyday routine isn’t what Ian thrives on. The Gallaghers are about chaos and extremes. Mickey drinks his beer and listens to Svetlana’s uterine hotel plans and tries to figure out what he’s supposed to do now.

“You are not listening.”

“Think I might quit my job.”

“Why?”

Mickey shrugs. “Feels weird being respectable.”

“Having steady paycheck, you mean?”

Mickey chews the skin around his thumbnail for a moment, worrying it. “You want to fuck?”

“Excuse me?” Svetlana stares at him like he’s grown another head. 

“What?”

“You like boys.”

“I like both.”

“You like certain boy.” She frowns at him. “He does not want to plug your ass anymore?”

“You could just say no. That’d be fine. Maybe throw a ‘thank you’ on there just to surprise me.”

“This is why you mope? Carrot-top dump you?”

“He didn’t dump me.” Mickey takes a drink from his bottle. It’s gotten warm over the past few hours he’s been nursing it. “Maybe I just want to get laid.”

“You miss sticking penis in? Tired of taking it up your butt?”

“Why am I even talking to you? Just...can you watch Yev since you’re home? I need a drink.”

“You owe me.”

“You already get everything I make. What else do you want? My firstborn?” Mickey drains the last of the beer then grabs his jacket. “You’ve got that covered too.”

She laughs and Mickey knows it’s not so much amusement as a promise of retribution. He heads for the Alibi, detouring so the walk takes him by the Gallagher house. It’s surprisingly quiet, which usually means someone’s been hospitalized or arrested. Mickey’s heart speeds up slightly, but if it was Ian he didn’t think about Mickey, didn’t want Mickey to know, or knows people with much more power and money to fork over bail.

He shoves his hands in his jacket pockets and keeps walking. The door of the Alibi opens right before he reaches it, and the entire bar is packed. Mickey walks to the bar itself and raises a hand to Kevin. Kevin comes over and sets a glass in front of Mickey, pouring him a shot.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Surprise party.”

“For who?”

“Ian. It’s his birthday.”

Mickey downs his shot and his eyes find the gaggle of Gallaghers taking up the back corner of the bar. They’re all there, even Frank. Mickey feels cold all over, something in his chest sinking, hurting. He slaps a few dollars on the bar even though he hasn’t paid for anything since the rub and tug started.

He pushes his way out of the bar, past some new arrivals on their way in, and walks until he reaches the end of the block. He lights a cigarette and takes a few drags, staring at the ground. It’s down to the filter and ash is dangling, about to fall, since Mickey’s been lost in thought and hasn’t smoked it. He pulls it up and takes a long last drag before grinding the butt into the sidewalk.

“Kevin said you came by.” Ian leans against the wall next to Mickey. “You didn’t come over.”

“Didn’t bring a gift. Miss Manners says if you don’t have a gift, then you don’t belong at the party. Major social faux pas.” He pronounces the French wrong, not giving a shit.

“It was a surprise.”

Mickey lights another cigarette and inhales, staring at the cherry. “Is your date there?”

“No. When I found out, I called. Rescheduled.”

“When was that?”

“Mickey.”

“Sorry. None of my business.” He takes another drag. “Your family seemed fine with us at the pool that night. What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“But they know we’re back together.”

“Sort of.”

“Sort of how?”

“I just thought I’d wait until we were back on solid ground to make it official.”

“We’ve been together for almost two months.”

“I just...”

“I didn’t even know it was your birthday.”

“I didn’t want anyone to make a big deal out of it.”

“Okay. Promise I won’t.” Mickey hands Ian the cigarette. “Go back to your party. Have a great birthday. Have fun with your family.”

“You’re family.”

“Not this family. Not yours.” Mickey coughs. “I need to get back. Svetlana’s just watching Yev for a bit.”

“I could come over tonight.”

“I’m working. Actually. Roger, the weekend overnight guy, is out sick, so I’m covering.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“I’m going to be gone all night. Go home and get a good night’s sleep.”

“No. Goddamn it, Mickey. Talk to me.”

“You want to fuck me, but it bothers you when I’m around. You don’t like me asking questions.”

Ian cuts him off. “Because you told me you didn’t want to _know_.”

“You don’t want your family to know. All that adds up to the fact that it’s not that you want to fuck me. It’s that you _only_ want to fuck me. And that’s cool. I can do that. I’d just rather know straight up.”

“I don’t _just_ want to fuck you.”

“When’s my birthday, Ian?” Ian starts to answer, but then stops. “Yeah. You know my birthday. But I didn’t know yours.” Mickey looks up at the street light until his eyes hurt. “We’re good at fucking. So maybe we should just stick to what we’re good at.”

“That’s all you want?”

Mickey shakes his head. “But let’s be honest. That’s all a guy like me is ever going to get.”

“Bullshit. You’re not another Frank or Terry. You’re a great dad. You’re a good guy, Mick.”

“I’m also south side to the core. You’re going to get out of here and make something of yourself, go places. This is where it starts and ends for me.”

“That’s a load of crap and you know it. We’ve had this stupid argument before. If I’m going places, then I’m taking you with me. I _want_ you there with me.”

Mickey clenches his hands into fists, holding them so Ian can clearly see his tattoos. “People like the Milkoviches don’t get to dream, Ian. I let myself pretend.”

“You love me.” Mickey doesn’t deny it, but he doesn’t admit it either. Ian glares at him then shakes his head, letting out a huff of disgust. “Fine. Have a great life, Mickey. Fuck off.”

Mickey watches him go then goes after him, catching him in the door of the Alibi. He pulls Ian in close and kisses him, nothing in the world but them. It takes Ian a fraction of a second and then he’s kissing Mickey back, pushing him back against the open door. Ian pulls back at some point, and Mickey’s lost all track of time. He turns his head and pretty much everyone he knows is standing up applauding.

“So,” Ian’s smile is big enough to split his face in two. “I think everyone might think we’re gay.”

“Shut up, Gallagher, and let me buy you a beer for your birthday.”

**

Mickey ends up crammed into Ian’s bed at the Gallaghers’ that night. He’s fairly sure every other Gallagher is in the room too, so they just lay pressed together, Ian curled around Mickey. Of course, Ian isn’t Ian unless he’s pushing too far, so he spends the entire night slurring dirty promises and suggestions into Mickey’s ear, his hand snacking down to rest on top of Mickey’s dick. They’re both too drunk for it to be much of a problem, but that doesn’t mean Mickey’s not going to get him back in spades.

In the morning, it’s pancakes and aspirin and Ian’s head on Mickey’s shoulder. Mickey reaches up and rubs the side of Ian’s head. “Your head hurt? I hope your head hurts.”

Ian bumps his knee into Mickey’s. “Don’t be mean. It’s my birthday.”

“Yesterday.”

“No,” Debbie says. “When your birthday’s on a weekend, it lasts the whole weekend.”

“Not a bad rule.” Mickey agrees. “But I still hope his head hurts.”

“Mean, mean, mean.”

Mickey just laughs and drops his hand down from Ian’s head to rest on his knee. “I need to get home and hang with Yev. Svetlana reminded me very clearly last night that she was doing my job. She was home and he probably went to bed right after I left. But.”

Ian yawns and rubs his nose against Mickey’s shoulder. “Could come with.”

Mickey turns his head slightly, cheek against Ian’s. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure.”

“Good,” Carl groans. “Because you’re making us all want to vomit.”

Neither Ian nor Mickey move except to flip Carl off. Ian kisses Mickey’s cheek loudly. “Can I shower at your place?”

“Hey,” Fiona interrupts. “No sex talk at the table.”

“He’s more likely to have hot water.”

Fiona slaps Ian upside the head. “ _No_ sex talk.”

Mickey stands up. “You’re all a bunch of lunatics.”

“Love him, love his family.”

Mickey looks at Lip. “Who says I love his ass?”

“Now _that’s_ sex talk.” Debbie grins up at Mickey. “You’d better stop. I’m young and impressionable.”

“You’re young,” Ian agrees, getting up and going around the table to kiss Liam and Debbie on the head. He tries with Carl, but Carl bats him away. “I’ll grab my shit and meet you outside.”

“Cool.” Mickey smiles awkwardly at all of the Gallaghers who are now staring at him. “Uh. Yeah. So, thanks for breakfast.”

Lip smirks. “Thanks for not having sex while we were in the room last night.”

“Yeah. Uh. You’re welcome?” Mickey looks over at Ian who’s standing at the base of the stairs laughing at him. Mickey flips him off, slapping Ian’s hand away when he reaches out and tries to grab Mickey’s hand. Ian slaps him back then grabs his hand, squeezing it. “Fuck off.”

There’s no heat in Mickey’s words, and Ian laughs and kisses his cheek. Mickey bats him off again, but Ian’s determined. Mickey stops protesting and lets Ian pull him in close. Ian smiles and Mickey rolls his eyes. “You’re never going to be more stubborn than I am. You might as well just give in.”

“Keep giving in to you all over the place,” Mickey says. “Don’t know why you think I’m going to stop all of a sudden.”

“You sorry?” Ian bumps into him, shoulder hitting Mickey’s.

He glances down at their joined hands and holds them up a little. “Do I look sorry?”

“No.”

“So there’s your answer. So stop asking dumb ass questions and go get your shit.” 

“Okay.” Ian’s got a stupid grin on his face, and Mickey does his best not to smile back at him and encourage him. 

He very carefully doesn’t look at any of Ian’s family as he goes to the door and waits outside for Ian. It’s not long before they’re back at Mickey’s house and out of the cold. Yevgeny starts bouncing in his playpen when he sees Mickey, and it gets even more enthusiastic when he sees Ian. “You’re going to give me a complex, kid.” Mickey picks him up and nuzzles him. Ian rests his hand in the small of Mickey’s back under his coat and smiles at Svetlana.

“Thanks for letting me borrow him last night.”

“You want to fuck for free, that’s your business. You want to fuck him, well...some things are unexplainable.” She stands up and picks up her stuff. “I’ll be back before you work on Monday.”

“Where do you go?”

“None of your business.” She drops a quick kiss on Yevgeny’s head then walks between Mickey and Ian, kissing each of them on the cheek. Mickey looks at her like she’s insane. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“You’re a _whore_.”

“So is your boyfriend.” She laughs and leaves, pulling the door shut behind her.

Mickey frowns. “Sorry.”

“It’s the truth when you get down to it. Nothing wrong with it.” Ian takes Yevgeny and sprawls on the couch. “How’s my favorite Milkovich?”

“Hey!” Mickey looks at the kitchen as someone echoes him. “Mandy?”

She comes out of the kitchen drinking a beer and waving. She leans over the back of the couch and kisses Ian on the corner of his mouth.

“Jesus, could all of you women stop kissing my boyfriend?” Mickey walks behind the couch and pulls Mandy up into a hug. “You back to stay?”

“Thinking about it. You already rent out my room or something?”

“Nah, we’ve just been fucking it in.”

Ian rolls his eyes. “Where’s Kenyatta?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.” She ruffles Ian’s hair. “So you’re still with this loser?”

“Nobody better’s come along.”

Mandy laughs. “That I don’t believe at _all_.”

“Fuck you.” Mickey points at her and then Ian. “And you.” He heads to the kitchen, slapping Mandy’s ass as he goes by her.

“Fuckhead.” She crawls over the back of the couch and pulls Ian’s feet into her lap, tugging off his shoes. “Seriously, why are you still even with him?”

“Insanity runs in my family.”

“Stupidity runs in ours, but he seems like he’s not giving you up.”

“And that’s not stupid?”

“Nope.” She pinches Ian’s big toe. “You’re a catch. That’s why I dated you.”

Ian glances over at Mickey where he’s standing in the kitchen doorway. He reaches out a hand toward him. “I don’t bite.”

“That is a blatant fucking lie.”

“You _like_ it when I bite.”

Mandy makes a gagging noise. “I don’t need to hear this shit.”

Ian wiggles his fingers. Mickey shakes his head and rolls his eyes, but he walks over and sits on the back of the couch, taking Ian’s hand and holding it on his lap.

“I’m glad you’re home.” Ian wiggles his toes. “Now you can watch Yev for us sometimes.”

“Dream on. I didn’t knock anyone up.” She pushes Ian’s fit off her lap and sits up, reaching for Yevgeny. “But if you two need to bang, I guess I can turn the TV up loud and teach Yev how to kill people in Call of Duty.”

“Oh, look.” Ian stands up and pushes Mickey off the couch to his feet. “The romantic streak runs in your family. You’re like poets.”

“Fuck you.”

Ian grabs Mickey’s hand again and tugs him toward the bedroom. “Yeah, well. Something like that.”

**

“We should go out for a drink.” Jeff hangs his jacket up when Mickey grabs his off the hook. “My friend Kyle’s bachelor party is tonight. You should come.”

“I work tonight.”

“Before work. Or call in sick. Come on. Kyle’s dad is fronting the whole bill. Nice place too. I’ll pick you up at five.”

“I don’t think so.”

“How many doubles have you worked? Call in sick. Live a little.”

“I don’t call in sick to hang out with people I actually _know_.”

“Yeah, well, the people you know don’t have bachelor parties where you can drink for free. You’ll have to put up with a few strippers, but a lap dance won’t kill you.”

“I don’t know.”

“I'll pick you up at five. Be ready.” Jeff pulls on Mickey’s jacket and brings him in close. “I’ll be fun. Promise.”

“Maybe.”

“That’s a yes.” Jeff lets go of Mickey’s jacket, smoothing it down. “Five.”

Mickey gets home and stretches out on the bed. Inviting Ian to someone’s bachelor party would be rude, especially to Jeff. And it’s Friday, so Ian’s busy anyway. Mickey tries to sleep, but every noise is like a bow across his tight nerves. Finally he texts his boss and tells him he’s sick and can’t come in.

He texts Ian, but he’s working at the grocery store, so there’s no answer. Finally Mickey falls asleep, waking up just before his alarm. He showers in lukewarm water and combs his hair before he starts feeling like a tool. He pulls on a pair of jeans and one of the three dress shirts he owns.

“Date with Ian?”

“No.” He makes a face at himself in the mirror and then one at Mandy.

Her eyebrows are up to her hairline. “Date with someone else?”

“Bachelor party.”

“We don’t know people who have bachelor parties. Shotgun weddings, yes.” She gestures at him. “Case in point.”

“A friend of a friend.”

“A friend of a friend who is your date?”

“It’s not a date.”

“Who’s the friend?”

“Nobody.” Mickey buttons the top button of his shirt, and then unbuttons it. “A friend.”

“You don't _have_ friends.“Her eyes widen. “Tell me you're not going out with Jeff.”

“We're not going out. I mean, it's not a date or anything.”

“Mickey, you're with Ian.”

“I know that.”

“So you can't go on a date.”

“It’s not a fucking date.”

“You're dressed up.”

“It's a party.”

“Does Ian know?”

“I sent him a text.”

“About going out with Jeff?”

“Christ, Mandy. Shut up.” He brushes past her and grabs his jacket. “Ian's working tonight, so leave him alone.”

“This is a bad idea, Mickey.”

“He's having sex with some old dude. I'm going out for drinks with a bunch of dudes and couple of strippers that I could care less about.”

“Whatever. I'm saying I told you so now because I'll be too busy laughing at your dumb ass later.”

“Whatever. I'll be home later.“He stops and kisses the top of Yevgeny's head. “Be a good boy and pee all over Aunt Mandy.”

He jogs down the stairs ignoring Mandy calling after him. Jeff pulls up a little while later and Mickey climbs in.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Mickey nods and lights a cigarette. “Where are we going?”

“Some place on the north side. Restaurant with a club connected. Fancy shit.” Jeff reaches over for the cigarette and Mickey hands it to him then lights up another one.'

“So how do you know this guy?”

“Our fathers were friends when they were kids.”

“He know you like dudes?”

“Yeah. And don't worry. I made it clear you're just a friend, so you don't have to worry that someone's going to ask you about us.”

Mickey blows out a breath of smoke. “I'm not worried.”

“Good.” Jeff flicks his ashes out the window.

Mickey watches out as he smokes, shoulders tensing as they get further away from the south side. “I'm going to stand out like a sore thumb.”

“You'll be fine. It's just a bunch of friends, not a fashion show. Relax.”

“Yeah.“Mickey takes another hit off his cigarette. “So are you seeing anybody?”

“No.”

“Oh.” He blows out another breath. “Fuck I hate small talk.”

“But you're so good at it.” Jeff gives him a smart ass grin and pulls off onto a side street. “Have a few drinks Some fun. Some food. I promise it's not going to kill you. Even a little.”

“You don't know that. I could choke on a lobster claw.”

“Tail.”

“Whatever.” He grins back at Jeff. “Yeah, okay. Fun.”

It is fun. Jeff's friends are nice to him and the strippers are high class and don't bother him. He debates staying, but Jeff gets a little friendlier the more the night goes on, so he heads out before everyone else.

He wavers between going home or making the much shorter trip to Ian's. It takes him about two minutes to decide and he catches the train to Ian's place. He doesn't actually remember Ian giving him a key to the door, but he has one, so he lets himself in. He kicks off his shoes and stretches out on Ian's bed, picking up the book lying next to the mattress.

It's some military thriller and it's something to pass the time. He's about halfway through at three in the morning when the key turn in the lock. 

Ian comes inside, closes the door and stops. “Huh. You look a lot like my boyfriend.”

“I do?”

“Yeah. But you're all clean and dressed up.”

“Fuck you. I'm always clean.”

“These days.” Ian kicks off his shoes. He's wearing a skimpy tank top and jeans that he shoves to the floor before crawling up Mickey's body.

“Do you mind? I'm trying to read.”

“You know how to read?”

Mickey shoves him. “Fuck you.”

Ian straddles him and runs a finger down the buttons of Mickey's shirt. “You look good.”

“Went to a party.”

“A _party_.” Ian's eyebrow goes up and he tugs Mickey's shirt out of his pants. “What kind of party?”

“Bachelor.” Mickeys eyes close when Ian's fingers glide over the skin above his waistband.

“Who’s getting married?”

“Kyle.”

“And who is Kyle?” Ian undoes the bottom button of Mickey's shirt.

“Friend of Jeff's.”

Ian's hand stills for a moment then he undoes another button. “Jeff, huh?”

“Yeah. He's probably still there.”

“You didn't want a ride home?” Ian opens two buttons and Mickey shakes his head.

“Had somewhere to be.” Mickey rests his hands on Ian's hips. “Hope you don't mind the company.”

“Definitely not.” He undoes the last button of Mickey's shirt then trails his fingers down his chest. “It's a very nice surprise.”

“Wasn't sure what time you'd be home. I could tell you what happens in the book.”

“I can think of something better to do with your mouth.”

“Is that so?”

“Mm.” Ian places his hands on either side of Mickey's arms and leans in, flicking his tongue across Mickey's nipple.

“That's your mouth.”

“Just demonstrating.” This time Ian slides the flat of his tongue across the nipple before tracking the dark areola surrounding it. It feels fucking amazing – sexual and sensual and private. Mickey's nipples are hard and tight, and Ian looks at him from under his bangs as he takes Mickey's nipple between his teeth.

“Fuck,” Mickey hisses. Ian's teeth hold Mickey's nipple as he flicks his tongue across it again and again. Mickey's hips rise off the bed and he grabs the sheets in his hands. Ian moves back, his teeth still trapping Mickey's nipple just on the right side of pain. Mickey keeps thrusting upward, trying to find friction.

Ian releases him and Mickey moans roughly. The moan dies when Ian takes the other nipple into his mouth, his teeth sharper, harder this time. Mickey's dick aches, and he releases the sheet to reach down and unzip his jeans. Ian's hand snakes out and catches Mickey's, pinning it to the bed beside Mickey's head.

Mickey starts to move his other hand and then Ian has him held down to the bed. Mickey looks up at Ian. He can barely see the ring of green around Ian's pupils. “Guess you've got me.”

Ian's eyes drop to Mickey's mouth and then he kisses him. It's slow and thorough, Ian's tongue fucking Mickey's mouth as his fingers tighten on Mickey's wrists. Mickey can feel the pressure of Ian's fingers and he moves his hand slightly to make Ian increase it.

“Wish I could keep you here like this.” Ian's voice is rough and thick. “Come home to you. Crawl into bed with you.”

“Thought you meant the pinned down part.”

“That too.” Ian's laugh rumbles down Mickey's spine. “But I like what you do with your hands.”

“Me too.” Mickey spreads his arms so Ian is down on top of him. Ian is just as hard in his jeans as Mickey is. Their faces are too close for Mickey to see Ian properly, but he's definitely close enough to turn his head and whisper in Ian's ear. “Want to suck you.”

Ian groans but he doesn't let go of Mickey's wrists. “Yeah?“

“Yeah. You want me to fill out a request in triplicate or something?”

“The only way to shut you up is to put a dick in your mouth, isn't it?” Ian pulls himself up so he's on his knees. He opens his jeans and shoves them down over his hips.

“How gay is it to tell you I fucking love your dick?”

Ian walks on his knees until he's straddling Mickey's shoulders. “Really, really fucking gay.” Ian grabs his cock and guides it to Mickey's mouth, running the head over his parted lips. “Almost as gay as sucking it.”

Mickey grabs Ian's ass to push him forward, and Ian slides into Mickey's mouth. Mickey cups an ass cheek with each hand, his fingers slotted together in the crack between them. Ian shudders when Mickey brushes his hole with his fingertips and thrusts forward. Mickey shifts his head slightly to adjust to Ian, his fingers digging in to spur Ian on.

That's all it takes before Ian is thrusting, one hand on the window above the bed and the other curved over the sill. When Ian's tongue is in Mickey's mouth it's like a sniper attack, precision hits on all the places that will make Mickey hot, make him squirm. Ian's dick is a literal full frontal assault – hard, fast and unrelenting.

Mickey feels spit gathering at the corners of his mouth, feels tears sting his eyes. He keeps his mouth tight around Ian, sucking hard every time Ian pulls back. Ian's panting and groaning, forcing each breath out through clenched teeth. He looks down at Mickey, pale skin flushed red. Ian's hand slips off the sill and traces Mickey's mouth where it meets his dick, but he doesn’t stop thrusting, pushing deeper.

Mickey's nails dig in and Ian's head hits the glass. He makes a noise deep in his throat as his orgasm hits. Mickey fights against the reflex to gag, sucking and swallowing Ian down. Ian's hips jerk as Mickey's mouth tightens further. He slaps his second hand on the glass and groans desperately.

“St-stop. Fuck, Mick.” Mickey relaxes his mouth and Ian pulls out with a wet slither. He sinks back on his heels, sitting on Mickey's chest. “Holy fuck.”

Mickey licks his lips and grins like the Cheshire cat. His mouth feels like he's been punched repeatedly, swollen and thick. He's breathing heavily and his chest is heaving hard enough that Ian's moving with every breath.

Ian gestures his shoulder back, indicating Mickey's dick. “You want?”

Mickey licks his lips a couple of times then clears his throat. He can still taste Ian on his tongue. “Could...” He blows out a breath. “Could ride me.”

Ian's eyes widen. “Missing juvie, huh?“

Mickey looks away for a split second to school his expression. “Just suck me off. Nobody's forcing you.”

“Hand me the lube.”

Mickey's jaw sets, but Ian keeps looking at him, challenging him. Finally Mickey twists slightly and grabs the lube. Ian takes it from him, grinning like the cocky bastard he is. Ian opens the lube and pours some on his fingers. A few drops fall onto Mickey's chest and he shivers. “Gonna take a while. I haven't done this in a long time.”

Mickey's voice is hoarse. “Not going anywhere.” He wraps his hand around his dick, squeezing to keep his control.

Ian laughs and rubs his hole then pushes a finger in. He closes his eyes and bites his lower lip. Mickey tightens his grip on himself, enthralled as Ian works himself open. Ian's eyes stay closed and his mouth opens, his breath hitching as he adds another finger and his back arches.

“Ready?” Mickey croaks the word, desperate for Ian around him. Ian nods and moves back, grabbing Mickey's dick and holding it against him. Mickey holds himself still, trying not to thrust so Ian can control the pace. He can't help but groan as he pushes past Ian's muscle, his head falling back. “Christ, Ian.”

“T-tight?” There's a hint of laughter in Ian's voice, and Mickey slides his hands up Ian's abdomen and chest, pinching both of his nipples at once. “Fuck!”

Ian sinks down the rest of the way, and Mickey arches up. Ian grabs Mickey’s hands and laces their fingers together. “O-okay?”

“Yeah,” Ian says with a nod. “Yeah. Big.”

“Got nothin' on you.”

“In me. Oh, fuck, Mick. So good.”

“Haven't done anything yet.” Mickey squeezes Ian's hands and thrusts up, rocking slowly. Ian's breath is rough as he gets used to it, but then he tightens his grip in return and starts moving, rising up and then sinking down. Mickey holds his breath and exhales as Ian's ass tightens even more. “Shit. Fuck, Ian.”

Ian speeds up and Mickey closes his eyes. It's too much. Ian's still so tight. Ian whispers softly. “Watch me.”

It might as well be a command because there's no way Mickey can refuse. Mickey's knuckles are white from holding Ian's hands so tightly. He can taste blood where he's bit his lip, his pulse thundering in his ears. He pulls Ian's hands down by his hips, pressing their hands against him as he comes, mouthing Ian's name.

Ian sits there, not moving and Mickey just stares up at him. Ian unhooks their fingers and reaches up to Mickey's lips, brushing a smear of blood away with his thumb. “Never actually done that before.”

“Shit what?” Mickey's eyes widen. “What?”

“What?”

Mickey punches Ian' in the stomach. “You _fucker_.”

“What!”

“Christ, Ian.” Mickey shoves Ian off of him. “I can't believe you.”

“Isn't it a good thing?”

“Jesus.” Mickey sits up, leaning against the pillows. “I need a fucking drink.”

Ian laughs at him. “What's wrong? You're my first.” He crawls up the bed, up Mickey's body and straddles him again, leaning in to kiss him. “I'm glad it's you.”

“Fucking pressure.”

“That's why I told you after.” He wraps his arms over Mickey's shoulders and kisses him again.

Mickey wrinkles his nose. “Did you like it?”

“You were good.” Ian grins. “But I'm not planning on switching it up any time soon, so don't worry. Your ass is still mine.”

“You're such a jerkoff.” There's no heat in Mickey's voice and he knows he's smiling. He probably looks like an idiot.

“What time do you have to be home?”

“Eight at the latest.”

“We can sleep for a while.” Ian slides off Mickey's lap and stretches out on the bed. “Can still feel you.”

Mickey shifts down and lets Ian tug him in against him. “Want to do this every day.” He turns so his back is against Ian's chest and smiles as Ian wraps his arms around him. “You should come live with me.”

“Not sure your wife likes me that much.”

“My house,” Mickey yawns and presses back closer. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

He tilts his head slightly, just enough to catch Ian’s eye. Ian’s grinning and Mickey is pretty sure he should beat the shit out of him just on principle. Instead he kisses Ian’s chin and laughs.“But you're still an asshole.”

**

There’s work and Yevgeny and Ian, but Mickey’s still not sure where all his time goes. All he knows is they’re shit-deep in winter, and it’s cold as balls outside, snow and ice and frozen homeless people on the ground. He’s drinking whiskey and trying to help Kermit figure out how many days there are left until summer. 

Ian slides onto the stool next to Mickey and signals Kevin for a drink. Mickey glances over at him. “Hey, you.”

“Hey.” Ian downs his shot and jerks his head toward the pool table. “You got a minute?”

“Just a minute? You asking if I'm up for a quickie?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Ian gets off the stool and walks away. Mickey raises an eyebrow at Kevin then follows Ian back. “What's up?”

“One of my guys wants me to go away with him for a week.”

“Yeah? And? You said, fuck no, right?” Mickey’s voice lifts slightly in amusement, but that shuts down quickly at Ian’s response.

“Not exactly.”

“What do you mean, not exactly?“

“Well. I told him yes.”

Mickey takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, avoiding looking at Ian until he can quiet the storm raging in his head. He tries to keep his voice even, but he knows from Ian’s slight flinch that he can hear the anger and frustration seeping through just as well as Mickey can. “And why the fuck would you do that?”

“It's just a week.”

“It's not just a week. It's you living with some guy for a week.“

“How is that different?“

“You're spending the whole fucking night! Seven times! You're fucking living with him. How _isn't_ it different?” Mickey holds up his hands when Ian takes a step forward, keeping distance between them. “What the hell, Ian? Does this guy think you're involved? Serious? Is this some romantic bullshit?”

Ian hunches his shoulders defensively. “He's going on vacation and wants company.”

“And you want to go?”

“When else am I going to get to go to Hawaii?”

“Right. So you're not so much asking me anything as telling me.” Mickey nods, resigned. “When are you leaving?“

“Sunday.”

“Sunday. Sunday three days from now, Sunday?”

Ian nods and shrugs at the same time.

“Right. Well. Have fun. Send me a fucking postcard.” Mickey doesn't look at Ian, can’t stand to watch him walk away to one of those stupid old assholes again. Every time. “See you when you get back.”

“We have time today before you go to work.”

“So you do want a quickie.” It’s supposed to be a joke. Mickey’s beginning to think the only joke in the room is him.

“I want to spend time with you is what I want.” Ian hooks a finger in Mickey's belt loop and pulls him close. “You have a problem with that?”

“I have a problem with you fucking off with some guy for a week, but whatever.”

“So you're not saying we can't fuck.”

Mickey rolls his eyes. “Yeah. You still get to. Why I should suffer because Mr. Moneybags gets to fly you off wherever.”

“So lets go kill a couple of hours.” Ian takes Mickey's wrist and drags him out of the Alibi. Mickey follows easily and obediently, because he's not going to turn down spending time with Ian. Or getting fucked by Ian. Especially when he's competing against guys who can afford to take Ian off to Hawaii for a week on the spur of the moment.

He's pretty sure he had pride once, but fuck knows where it's gone.

**

Ian's sprawled across Mickey's bed, his bare ass on display. Mickey pulls on his tank top and tucks it into his unbuttoned jeans. “So what's his name?”

Ian looks up from Mickey's hands to his face. “Who?”

“The guy. Hawaii guy.”

“Why?”

“Curious.”

“He's nobody important.”

“So why not tell me his name?”

Ian rolls over onto his back and Mickey appreciates the view even though buttoning his jeans seems counter-intuitive when Ian's dick is there, half hard. “Gary.”

“Gary what?”

“Just Gary.”

“Not like I'm going to hunt him down and beat the shit out of him.” Ian just raises his eyebrow and doesn't say a word. “Well, at least not before Sunday.”

“Mickey, it's not any different.” Ian reaches out for Mickey's hand and pulls him down onto the bed and kisses him. “He pays me to look pretty and fuck him. It's just a change of scenery.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Mickey lets Ian give him another quick kiss, then grabs his uniform shirt. “When are you going to spend a week with me?”

“Next month. I'll take a week off. I'll text you the dates and you can take the time off too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And maybe we can convince Mandy and Svetlana to give you the week off from dad-duty too, and we can spend the entire week in bed.”

“You just want me for my body. I knew it.”

“At least it's mutual.”

Mickey leans in and kisses him one last time. “Text me before you leave.”

Ian nods and wraps his arm around Mickeys neck for another kiss, not letting him go. “No wild parties while I'm gone.”

“No Hawaiian orgies.”

“Gang bangs?”

“Depends. Do you want to die?” He kisses Ian again. “Wear goddamned rubbers.”

“Pack my suitcase full of them.”

“Don't fuck him _that_ much. Jesus.”

“Go to work.” Ian slaps Mickey's ass. “Try not to cry over me every night.”

“Try not to call out my name when you're fucking Gary.”

“Never happen. His ass isn't nearly as sweet as yours.” Ian wiggles his fingers in a tiny wave. “Miss you.”

Mickey wishes he could read Ian’s mind, wish he could pick out the pieces that make Ian want things Mickey’s never going to be able to give him. Instead he strokes Ian's jaw. “I know you will.”

**

Mickey’s had too much to drink. He knows that because he’s talking to a complete stranger about Ian. He’s at some shitty bar with his brothers, riding high off pulling some serious retribution against some punks trying to move their shit into Milkovich territory. 

The boys are playing darts in the back, probably putting each other’s eyes out. Mickey is just drinking because Ian’s gone, fucking some dickhead named fucking _Gary_ on the fucking beach while drinking faggot drinks out of pineapples and coconuts and Mickey hopes someone shoves one of those damn paper umbrellas into Gary’s dick and opens it.

The guy next to him doesn’t seem to be paying attention, so Mickey starts directing his plans for fucking Gary up to the bartender, his shot glass, and the bottle of Jack Daniels that’s way too close to empty.

“You’ve had enough.” The bartender takes Mickey’s glass away after he tries to bang the whiskey bottle against it for those last stubborn drops. “Hit the road.”

“Not through drinking.”

“You’re through drinking here.”

“Find a real bar then.” Mickey nearly falls off his stool, stumbling to try to stay on his feet. “Fuck you very much.”

“Fucking worse than Frank Gallagher,” the man next to Mickey mutters.

“Hey.” Mickey points a finger in his face. “Nobody’s worse than Frank Gallagher.” Mickey calls for his brothers, waving a hand in dismissal toward the back of the bar when they don’t answer. It’s cold outside, but Mickey’s body feels warm, so he bypasses the El station and keeps walking. He stops under the tracks and tilts his head back to watch a train roar by overhead. He spreads out his arms like he’s in some fucking movie, going down when a metal pipe hits him on the top of his head.

Somewhere, through his drunk haze, Mickey knows he’s getting the shit kicked out of him. Steel-toed boots, the pipe, punches. He feels something rip into his skin, but the world’s already going black. He’s just glad he can’t actually feel anything, though it’s strange that, before he actually passes out, he swears he hears his dad’s voice.

**

Mickey can’t even groan. Groaning takes too much energy, too much effort. He doesn’t open his eyes either. He’s pretty sure there’s an elephant sitting on his head, and he’s got no desire to see a giant grey ass. 

“Mick?” Mandy’s voice seems like it’s a million miles away. “Hey.”

He makes a noise. He thinks. Nothing seems to be working right.

“Yeah. Don’t try to talk. Or anything really. You’re high as fuck on pain meds and your cheekbone is broken. And a few more things.” She squeezes his hand, or at least something does. He makes another noise and he can hear the soft click of a button. “Don’t worry. I don’t think you can get higher, so just enjoy the ride.”

“Wh...”

“Gay bashing, we think. Nobody actually saw anything, or at least won’t admit it if they did. Iggy found you on his way home. You got worked over, and it was pretty ugly. I tried calling Ian, but he hasn’t answered his phone or returned my messages.”

Mickey lets his head fall to the side. His lower arm is wrapped in a cast. Mandy must follow his eyes, because she starts her monologue up again. “Broke bone bones in your forearm. Concussion. They had to give you a tetanus shot because there was a rusty nail in your thigh. And a board. The board wasn’t. Just the nail from the board.” She clears her throat. “And your clothes, well, they took most of them and trust me, you don’t want what was left back. Also you almost lost a toe to frost bite, you have at least three broken ribs, and your left leg is broken in two places. Basically it sucks to be you. Want some water?”

He can’t talk and there’s no way on earth he’s moving his head again, so he squeezes Mandy’s hand.

“Jeff came by. And Debbie Gallagher. She’s trying to get in touch with Ian too.”

Mickey closes his eyes, the morphine rolling lazily through his system. Everything shifts three feet to the right and starts melting together. He hears voices, but none of them make sense. They’re garbled syllables like the adults in Charlie Brown specials. He’s not even sure they’re real.

The next time he comes to there’s a bright light shining in his eyes that he can’t seem to bat away. Probably because he can’t actually move his arms. “Fuck.” He slurs the word and his face feels like it explodes.

“Don’t talk. It’ll hurt.”

“N’ shit.” That hurts even worse. Two explosions this time – one in each nostril.

“I’m Dr. Cooper. You want me to tell you what’s wrong with you or give you the shorter list of what isn’t?”

Flipping him off doesn’t hurt nearly as much.

“I’ll at least start with good news. No signs of forced intercourse. You’re on IV antibiotics for any other possible sexually-related issues. The tetanus shot takes care of the slice across your stomach and the hole in your leg. The broken bones that we can set are taken care of, and your sister’s brought you clothes from home so you don’t have to leave the hospital with your ass hanging out of your paper gown.”

Mickey slaps the doctor’s arm. He tries to talk, but it doesn’t work. Either he’s too worked up or his brain was rattled a little too much. “Forc...”

“You were found underneath the tracks, naked except for your boxers, which were pulled down around your ankles. You were covered in...”

Mickey manages to shake his head, even though it hurts like hell. His imagination comes up with about fifteen different ways to complete the sentence, and none of them are anything he ever wants to think about again. “Day?”

“It’s Wednesday. You were brought in Sunday night.”

Mickey doesn’t think he falls asleep, but the next thing he knows, it’s dark outside and Mandy’s asleep, curled up in the chair beside the window.

“W’ter?”

She’s instantly on her feet and pours him a glass from the plastic pitcher beside the bed. She pushes the button to raise him to a sitting position then helps him with the straw.

“Yev?”

“He’s good. Keeps asking for you.”

“Day?”

“Wednesday.”

So he hasn’t lost too much more time. He closes his eyes and swallows. “Ian?”

“I’ve left messages. Debbie too. And Fiona.”

“H’waii.”

“What?”

“He’s...in Hawaii.”

“What the fuck is he doing there?”

“Sex.”

“Oh. Right. Of course.” Mandy nods and then looks like she wants to smack him, but she grabs the rail at the side of the bed instead. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Mickey shakes his head slightly and nods toward the water again. His head is still swimming, but at least he doesn’t feel like he’s drowning anymore. “One ‘f his guys.”

“Took him to Hawaii for a day?”

“Week.”

“And you _let_ him?”

“You try ‘n stop a Gallagher.”

“Well.” Mandy’s scowl is particularly frightening in the dim light of the room. “They have fucking cell service in Hawaii. Maybe he’s being held hostage. Is this guy likely to make Ian his sex slave?”

“Not helping.”

“Should I keep calling?”

“No. Nothing...nothing he can do.” Mickey rubs the bridge of his nose with his good hand. “Don’t bother him.”

“When’s he due back.”

“Don’t know. Sunday? It was supposed to be a week.”

“I can’t believe he _left_. What the fuck.”

“Don’t okay? Just...” Mickey sighs. “Just don’t.”

“They’re going to let you go home on Friday. I’m going to take care of you. Except...well.”

“Dad?”

Mandy frowns. “How did you know?”

“Heard him. Doing this. There anyway. Guess he heard Ian and I are still together.” He tries to laugh, but it feels like he’s swallowing glass. “Just make sure Yev’s okay.”

“Someone has to take care of you. You can’t do anything.”

“Be fine. Just need a ride to Ian’s.”

“And someone to carry your ass up seven flights of stairs.”

“Fine. Have Kevin put me upstairs at the Alibi. Not like I give a shit about tits. Assuming he hasn’t managed to fuck up the milking business.” Mickey fingers the pain button, but doesn’t push it. “What about all my shit?”

“He’s been too drunk to do much of anything. Besides, he needs you to be the brains of the operation, since no one else can actually manage.”

“He tried to beat my brains out. I’m not doing shit for him.”

“I’ll talk to Kevin for you.” Mandy sighs and goes back to her chair. “You sure you don’t want me to call Ian again?”

“I’m sure.”

“I could bring Yev by later.”

“Yeah? That’d be cool.” 

“Okay. I’ll be back.” She smiles at him as she leaves, and Mickey’s beginning to think everyone’s lied to him and he’s actually dying because they’re all smiling and being nice and shit. He pushes his call button and waits for the nurse. “Yes, Mister Milkovich?”

“Cut that shit out.” He glares at her. “Is there some law or something that you have to tell people they’re dying and shit?”

“We always make sure the family is aware of any situation like that.”

“Fuck the family. I mean me. Do you have to tell me if I’m dying?”

“You’re not dying, Mister...” Mickey’s expression stops her. “You’re not dying.”

“Because you’d tell me.”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He looks at her for a moment. “Are you married?”

“That’s really none of your business.”

“I’m not fucking hitting on you. I just don’t know anyone that’s married that’s, you know, normal.”

She laughs. “I don’t know about normal.”

“You’re, like, happy and shit?”

“Most of the time.”

“I’m with someone? But it’s weird. Different.”

“I doubt it’s that different just because you’re both guys.”

“I’m not...” Mickey stops. Apparently everyone in the world now knows he’s a fag. “Ian’s an escort. Goes out with dudes for money. I’m married to an ex-whore and we have a kid. So it’s weird.”

“Okay. I’ll grant you weird and different.”

“So, like, what do I do?”

“That’s a broad question. Do you love him?”

“I think so. Yeah. I mean, yes. I do. But...I mean, he says it. But I’m not so sure anymore that he means it.”

“Do you think he’s the kind of person who would do that?”

“How the fuck should I know? I’ve never had anyone give two shits about me.”

“How do you know you love him?”

Mickey laughs. “Shit, if that’s the way to tell, then I’m fucked.” He closes his eyes and lowers the bed. “Thanks.”

“Is there anything else you need?”

Mickey holds up the pain medicine button. “Got everything right here.”

**

By Tuesday, Mickey’s busy flipping cards into a hat across the room in the apartment above the Alibi and working his way steadily through Kevin’s supply of booze. He’s not supposed to drink with his pain meds, but he’s also supposed to be Ian’s boyfriend, and he hasn’t heard from him. Maybe he’s still in Hawaii. Maybe he’s got better things to do. Maybe he just doesn’t give a shit.

The door to the apartment busts open sometime in the afternoon. Mickey’s drunk enough that if he could stand up, he’d fall down. He looks up and then closes his eyes, reaching for the bottle of booze. He thinks he’s drinking tequila, but it all actually tastes the same at this point.

“Shit, Mickey.”

He must be drunk, because it sounds like Ian, but whoever it is is tanned and looks relaxed. He sits down on the edge of the bed and reaches out, not quite touching Mickey. His hallucination seems to be talking to him, so he might as well be polite. “Hey.”

“I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. Shit.”

“It’s cool. Nothing you could do.” He takes a hit off the bottle. “You look different.”

“I’m not fucking important. Who did this to you?”

“All tan and shit. Did you, like, swim with the dolphins or some shit like that?”

“Who did this, Mickey?”

“Kind of funny. You get tan and rich and travel all over. I get the shit beaten out of me. I guess that about sums us up, huh? Life of a Gallagher versus the life of a Milkovich.”

“Tell me who did this.”

“Why? Not a goddamned thing you can do about it.”

“I can fucking kill them.”

“All of them?” He laughs sharply and grabs his ribs. “Just drop it. It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me! Jesus, Mickey. They beat the shit out of you!”

“I know what they did. I was there. And it’s done. Maybe at some point they’ll all realize they can’t beat it out of me.” He takes another drink. Definitely tequila. “Even if you’re not around I’m a fag.”

“It doesn’t really go away.” Ian reaches out again and rubs Mickey’s thigh. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t in contact.”

“Like I said, nothing you could have done.” Mickey moves away from Ian’s touch. “Did you have a good time in Hawaii?”

“Who the fuck gives a shit about Hawaii?”

“Never been. Never going. Did you get to do any sightseeing or were you just fucking all week?”

“That’s what you want to talk about? What I saw and did?”

“What else is there?”

“Jesus.” Ian snaps. “Fine. It was great. Sun, sand, beach. Never fuck in the sand.”

“Not gonna be a problem I’m going to come up against.”

“Yeah. Well...” Ian shakes his head. “No. I can’t do this.” He moves closer and takes Mickey’s hand, holding it tight enough that Mickey can’t pull away. “Can I kiss you?”

“Are you going to listen to me if I say no?”

Ian leans in and stops, his lips just a breath from Mickey’s. “No.” Mickey expects the kiss, but instead Ian frowns. Mickey feels it more than he sees it and he moves back a bit. “Yes. If you want me to.”

“Really?” Mickey sounds as surprised as he feels.

“I’d pout.”

“Just do it.”

“Wow.” Ian laughs. “You’re really turning me on here. I don’t know if I can control myself.”

“You’re such a dick.” Mickey laughs as well then winces in pain.

Ian closes the small distance between them, kissing Mickey lightly. He presses his fingers to Mickey’s jaw, barely touching him. “I missed you.”

“Yeah, right. You were too busy to miss me. I’m sure your boyfriend kept you plenty occupied.”

“ _You’re_ my boyfriend.”

“Well, I don’t know what else to call a dude you spend a week with.”

“A client.” 

“Whatever.” Mickey bites his tongue to keep from saying anything else, but Ian makes him vulnerable, which is why he’s fought him for so long, why it’s been so hard. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“We didn’t bring them.”

“Oh. Right. Vacation. A whole getaway.”

“Fuck. You’re pissed. You should be pissed. I’m pissed at myself.” Ian sighs roughly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Hearing Ian apologize just makes Mickey feel worse, which pisses him off. Which makes him feel worse. “It is what it is.”

Mickey goes to take another drink and Ian grabs the bottle. “What pain meds are you on?”

“Who the fuck cares? Give me the bottle.”

“Where are your meds?”

“Give me the goddamned bottle.”

“Shit.” Ian picks up one of the prescription bottles. “You can’t take this and drink. Frank is not a fucking role model.”

Mickey gets cut off by Mandy’s voice as she walks in the room. “You hungry? I brought lunch.” She’s got a bag of food in her hand and an arm full of Yevgeny. “And company. Yev’s the company. Not the lunch.”

“Papa!”

Mandy sets him on the floor and he starts crawling toward Mickey. “Shit, Mandy. Get him off the fucking floor. This was a whore house. Jesus.”

Ian walks over and scoops Yevgeny up. He struggles until he realizes who’s holding him and then he shrieks with joy. Mandy walks toward them, tossing the bag of food at Mickey before she sucker punches Ian hard.

“Ow! What the fuck?”

“You went away with some rich asshole, and you didn’t answer your phone and _look_ at him.”

“I know! He won’t tell me who did it.”

“He fucking _needed_ you, Ian.”

Mickey would argue that, but he’d probably lose. Mandy’s convinced he and Ian are the greatest love story ever told. Instead he unwraps his hot dog and takes a bite of it. Ian looks over at him and Mickey shrugs. 

Ian rubs his face with both hands. “I know.”

“And you were off getting _laid_!”

“I _know_!” Ian takes a breath to calm down. “And I wish I could change it. But I can’t. So if you’d just tell me who did this, I can...”

“What? What can you do? Anything you do is just going to make it worse. He still lives here. He doesn’t get to go to the north side every night. He doesn’t work over there. He’s here and he’s got me, Ian. That’s it. Our brothers don’t care that Mickey’s gay, but they’re not going to stand up against anyone for him.”

“Mandy.” Mickey shakes his head.

“I’m breaking up with you.” Mandy says, pointing at Ian. “Find another fake girlfriend. I totally take back all the fake loving you I did.”

“I think we broke up when you started screwing my brother.”

“Well, it sure as hell wasn’t when you started screwing mine.”

Mickey takes a breath and clears his throat. “Can I see my fucking kid while you guys settle your little lover’s quarrel?”

Ian walks Yevgeny over to Mickey and hands him to him before sitting on the edge of the bed. He takes Mandy’s hand and tugs her down next to him. “No more long trips. I promise.”

Mickey makes a face at Yevgeny and makes him laugh. “I didn’t get the shit kicked out of me because you were on vacation, Ian. It didn’t have anything to do with you at all.”

“Except you’re with me.”

“I wasn’t that night.”

Ian turns his head sharply. “What?”

“I wasn't that night. So it wasn't about you.”

“Who were you with?”

“None of your business,” Mandy says.

“Mandy.” Mickey smirks. “I still don't need someone to protect me. I wasn't with anyone. I was just out. Probably said or did something stupid.” Mickey shifts on the bed and lays down, holding Yevgeny against his chest. “I can deal with my own shit.”

“Yeah, well, you can't do anything right now.” Mandy looks smug and Mickey buries his smile against Yevgeny's head. “So don't think you're so independent until you can get to the bathroom by yourself.”

“I'll just borrow Yev's diapers.” Mickey's still smiling, but he's not sure if it's from the combination of booze and pills or if it's just the fact that three of his favorite people are in the room with him, and two of them are arguing about him, over him.

“I'm going to stay,” Ian tells them both. “Take care of him until he can go home.”

Mandy laughs sharply. “He's not going home unless someone put our dad in a grave or in prison for a long time.”

“He's out of prison again?” Ian looks at Mickey, his eyes narrowing. “Did he do this to you?”

“It's not like you and I have been subtle. I've given him more than enough reason to kick me out.”

“It's bullshit.”

“At what point do you think our dad gives a fuck about logic or right and wrong or human decency?” Mandy looks at Ian like he's gone crazy. “He raped me, had Svetlana rape Mickey after he caught you guys, after he beat the shit out of Mickey himself. If he could retroactively kick Mickey out, he would.”

Mickey strokes Yevgeny's hair, his eyes closing. “If he fucking knew what retroactively meant.”  
“Yeah, like _you_ do.” Mandy pokes Mickey's leg.

“Ow, stop it. I'm a fucking invalid.”

“You're a fucking pussy.” Mandy looks at Mickey then at Ian. “You're not going to try to have sex with each other if I leave you alone, are you?”

“Yev is in the bed with him.” Mandy keeps staring at him, and Ian throws up his hands. “No. We're not going to have sex.”

“Okay. I'll be back in a couple of hours. He better still be in one piece when I get back.”

“I have a broken arm,” Mickey reminds her. “I'm not in one piece now.”

Mandy flips him off then leans in to kiss Yevgeny on the head before she ruffles Mickey's hair. “You okay?”

“Christ, would you get out of here?”

Ian watches until the door shuts behind her then looks down at Mickey. “I could lie down with you guys.” Mickey moves over, hissing when his weight shifts onto his broken arm, when his torso twists slightly. “Shit. I didn't mean for you to hurt yourself.”

Ian picks Yevgeny up and lays him carefully on Mickey's chest before getting on the bed himself. He reaches over and helps Mickey sit up just enough that Ian can slide beneath him and let Mickey rest against him, Yevgeny on both of them.

“I can hear you worrying, Gallagher. Relax. I'm fine.”

“So if you're not living at home, you're probably not going to get the postcards I sent, huh?”

“You sent me a postcard?”

“I sent you one every day.” Ian kisses the top of Mickey's head “You told me to.”

“I'm going to guess I was being sarcastic.”

“You were being a bitch, but I did it anyway.” Ian rests his head on top of Mickey's “I wanted you to know that I thought about you. Missed you.”

Mickey closes his eyes. “I missed you too.” Mickey tilts his head up, the tension in his body easing when Ian kisses him. It’s somewhere between comforting and terrifying to know how much Ian affects him. The kiss is light at first, but then Ian flicks his tongue against Mickey's lips, pushing past them when they part.

When Ian pulls back, whatever pain the booze and pills haven't handled is gone, or at least Mickey can't feel it anymore. Ian traces Mickey's lower lip with his thumb. “I love you.”

Mickey nods. “Yeah, well, you leave again and I'm kicking your ass to the curb for good.”

“Okay.” Ian's smiling like he doesn't believe a word of it.

Mickey shakes his head and relaxes back against him. “Asshole.”


End file.
